


Starring Edward J. Kaspbrak As Himself

by TheBlackLagoon



Series: Are You There Maturin? It's Me, Richie [2]
Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Eddie Kaspbrak Lives, Eventual Smut, Happy Ending, M/M, Still more Judy Bloom refrences because I can't help it, actual warning for those with Emetophobia, the turtle CAN help us folks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-06
Updated: 2019-11-03
Packaged: 2020-11-26 06:22:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 27,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20925590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBlackLagoon/pseuds/TheBlackLagoon
Summary: From Derry to New York to L.A. From hell on earth, to gratuitous tourist shenanigans and divorce proceedings, to New Beginnings. Edward Kaspbrak remembers who he is, and things get better from there.





	1. Chapter 1

Edward Kaspbrak is an asshole. He’s an asshole and he knows he’s one. 

** **

He talks over people. He cuts other drivers off in horrible mid-day traffic. He yells at apathetic clients who would rather cut costs than listen to his advice on how to keep people safe. He glares at anyone who so much as comes near him with a lit cigarette (vapers were on thin fucking ice). And he married Myra. Told her _ Till death do us part _. Said it as if he meant it. 

** **

That last one had never occurred to Eddie on a real conscious level. Not until he’d gotten _ the _call from Mike. But he knows it had been there. Hidden. Just like so many other things that had made up who Edward Kaspbrak really was.

** **

So yeah, Eddie is an asshole. He may not be on the level of a one Rich Tozier, who’s asshole-ish-ness is so out in the open, it’s almost loveable. But, _ Eddie _ ? Eddie is just loud and obnoxious, he gets on people’s nerves because he won’t stop talking about the health risks of just _ living _ in general. He can’t get his brain to shut off for one goddamn second. He's an asshole, and he hates it, wishes for one moment he could just stop, and _ breath _.

_ That’s why you need an inhaler Eddie-Bear, your lungs have never worked quite right, have they? _

** **

He also wishes fervently that every self-deprecating thought didn’t sound like his mother's sickly sweet voice in his head. 

** **

But so was his life. Along with psychopathic childhood bullies, an ever knawing fear of contracting a disease, and a fucking killer clown. 

** **

“And now Mike wants us to split up like we’re the fucking mystery gang,” Eddie mutters under his breath as he paces uncomfortably back in forth in front of Derry’s one and only drug store. 

** **

He doesn’t want to go in. He really, _ really _doesn’t want to go in. He knows the minute he steps through the door, memories are going to flood him. He can already feel them, edging at the corners of his brain, forgotten, or, apparently magically fucking suppressed for 27 years. They probably have something to do with his mother. And IT. Most likely both. He feels kind of sick.

** **

But his prescription is waiting for him. Just beyond the glass door, beyond rows and rows of-

** **

_ They’re fucking gazebos! They’re Bullshit! _

** **

And there went the memories. 

** **

Eddie presses a clammy palm to his face and lets himself ride it out. It’s a nauseating feeling, all those old emotions whirling around inside him like they’re fresh. 

** **

His phone rings when he hits the worst of it. All-encompassing anger, tinged with fear and regret. He hits answer without really meaning to.

** **

“It’s not a great time right now Rich-” and Richie hangs up. He just- fucking hangs up. Like Eddie hasn’t just picked up a call for him in the middle of a 27-year-old panic attack. Except that- maybe Richie hadn’t hung up, not on purpose at least. He swipes his fingers over his phone trying to unlock it again, fear racing like a spike through his chest.

** **

The phone rings again before Eddie can pull up Richie’s contact again, and he picks up immediately. 

** **

“I swear to god if this a fucking prank dickwad, the clowns not gonna be the thing to murder you,” Eddie’s voice comes out clipped, and anxious, because he’s anxious. He’s always anxious. The line on the other end is quiet, which, fuck, can’t mean anything good. 

** **

“Richie? For fuck's sake, please fucking say something,” Eddie tries not to sound like he’s pleading, because what if it’s IT on the other end, playing with him, distracting him from his task. Using Richie like a prop toy to his advantage. But then there's a slight gasp on the other end, and Richie’s voice comes through shaky but very, very real.

** **

“Sorry- sorry- I just, I got my token. I- wanted to check-in.” Eddie stops the rant he was about to start when he hears that. It’s- a surprisingly caring thing for Richie to say.

** **

“Oh- er, I’m still waiting for my prescription to-”

** **

“I’ll meet you, you’re at the drugstore right?” Richie says, which is completely beside the point of what Eddie was about to say before he was rudely interrupted.

** **

“Yeah but Rich, Mike said-.” 

** **

“Pardon my language but _ Fuck _what Mike said, I’ll meet you in ten,” Richie’s voice is muffled like he’s actually already started running, and then he’s gone. Because Eddie Kaspbrak has been hung up on for the second time in five minutes. He looks down at his phone as if it’s going to have the answers he’s looking for, but it’s just a black piece of plastic and metal, so it doesn’t. Eddie stuffs it back in his pocket and marches into the drug store. He’s getting that fucking prescription.

** **

**~~~**

** **

Eddie doesn’t know what’s worse. The fact he’s just been puked on by a shapeshifting demon clown, or that fact Richie catches him outside the drug store right after it’s happened. It’s a real toss-up honestly.

** **

He stumbles out onto the concrete sidewalk, trying to get his breath back, purposefully not thinking about shitty basements, and flickering lights, when Richie is just there. He’s winded, his hairs a mess, and it looks like the shirt he’s wearing is at least two weeks out from its last cleaning, but Eddie can’t help the little sigh of relief from escaping his mouth at the sight of him. Killer clowns be damned, it was nice to have-

** **

And Richie is hugging him. Like a full-on bone-crushing, out of the blue hug. A hug Eddie would admittedly be enjoying if he weren’t A. covered in Leper vomit, and B. just at the right (_ average! _) height where he is suffocating against Richie’s chest. After about 2 seconds of internal panic, Eddie mumbles-

“Rich?” Richie does not move, because he’s stupidly, awkwardly tall and he probably didn’t even hear because his shirt is literally in Eddie’s mouth right now they’re so close. So Eddie waits a few more seconds, before mumbling a little louder-

** **

“Richie, I’m literally covered in vomit right now.” 

** **

“Huh- oh yeah,” Richie pulls back, looking down at his now damp shirt. “Gross.” Whatever tender moment Richie had just created, was shattered, and Eddie rolls his eyes with a sigh and begins the walk back to the Derry townhouse. Richie doesn’t move for a second, just kind of stares, and when Eddie gives him an admittedly odd look, he jumps into position slightly, and then he’s matching Eddie’s pace. It’s quiet for a full five minutes. 

** **

Eddie is fucking terrified.

** **

“So- what did the others have to say?” Eddie asks, because Richie is being entirely too quiet and non-distracting, and Eddie is trying not involuntary shudder at how absolutely disgusting he feels right now. Richie mutters something unintelligible next to him, and Eddie stops to look. Richie stops too, immediately, but he’s got this look in his eye, like something momentous or more likely horrendous has happened, and he’s just- processing it.

** **

“Rich- did the clown _ do _something to you?” Eddie asks quietly because he’s just as likely to spook a wild animal with loud noise as he is Richard Tozier. Richie just shakes his head, slow at first, then more steady, like he’s clearing it.

** **

“I don’t think it was him this time,” Richie says, and he doesn’t look scared or traumatized, or like he’s just been projectile vomited on. Which is good, but also weird for the circumstances into which their lives had become.

** **

“Did you- did you call the others?” Eddie asks, and then Richie’s eyes are suddenly alight like Eddie had just lit a match.

** **

“Shit no- _ Bill _, Wait- can I borrow your phone?” Richie asks suddenly holding out his hand expectantly, fingers wiggling like he’s an impatient little kid. 

** **

“I guess, but _ why-? _” Eddie says, handing over his phone quickly at the urgent look. Richie grabs the phone, swipes up and quickly types in a few numbers. Way too few numbers for an actual phone number, unless-

** **

“Hello, yes I’d like to report a bomb sighting at the Canal’s day festival. Uh, in the- funhouse. The uh, at the end of the mirror maze. Yeah, no- I don’t think anyone else has noticed it, I’m not like pointing it out and causing a panic. No, it’s just, beeping a little, there's a flashing red light. - I mean, I’ve never really seen a bomb before but it’s got like wires and that white putty stuff- Um- my name? That would be-” Richie presses end call, and Eddie just stares at him. Richie nods slightly like he’s- fucking proud of himself, and then he continues walking at an increased pace. 

** **

Eddie is still processing the crime he just saw committed.

** **

“Did you just- use _ my phone- _to call in a fake 911 emergency?”

** **

“_ Yep _,” Richie says, still continuing to walk away, taking his own phone out, which appears to be working just fucking fine, and starts scrolling through his contact list. 

“That’s-_ against the law_ _Richie!” _Eddie shouts.

** **

“Which is why I used your phone. Hurry up short stack, we have to get to the others,” Richie says, and then he presses Ben’s phone number, and he’s not paying attention to Eddie anymore because Ben is on the other line, but _ Eddie is panicking _. And Richie is muttering about going to the library already like he hasn’t just done something phenomenally stupid. The panic Eddie’s feeling now is almost settling though. It’s a stupid real-world problem, but it’s still a problem nonetheless. Not a panic induced by a supernatural entity problem. 

** **

But it is still panic, _ and Richie is still on the phone with Ben. _

** **

“Could you hang up for one fucking second and explain to me what the hell is going on,” Eddie snaps grabbing the phone from Richie’s hand, fumbling halfheartedly with the end call button. Richie stares at him aghast, like the actual fucking drama queen he is, and Eddie is still fuming. There are only so many things he can handle at once, and Richie getting him trouble with the local authorities is not _ fucking _one of them.

** **

“Eds- I need my phone back,” Richie says it softly, like, like Eddie is the one who needs to cool his jets right now, when obviously, he is not the one overreacting. 

** **

“Richie, don’t fucking call me that- explain to me why the fuck you just called the police for an alleged bomb threat after mentioning Bill,” Eddie asks taking a step back, with the phone raised slightly behind him into the street. Richie gives him a flat look. Then he makes a grab for the phone. 

** **

Eddie would like to say he acted in a dignified manner, that he did not get into a full-on wrestling match, in the middle of the day, on a very public street, at the age of forty. Unfortunately, if he denied it, he would be lying. Eddie keeps the phone though, and Richie is still holding his stomach from a well-placed elbow, and looking at Eddie like he is simultaneously the worst slash greatest thing. It’s disconcerting, to say the least.

** **

“Rich- _ what the fuck is going on? _” Eddie pants, because yeah, he’s fucking forty, he should definitely not be getting into wrestling matches like a thirteen-year-old. Richie shakes his head, leaning back against the brick wall behind him, because he’s a stubborn dick like that, and always has been.

** **

“Ya know what- no, we don’t have time for this, Ben and Bev should be meeting us at the library- Mike could be in trouble, but- no, no doesn’t matter. Come on,” Richie says, and it’s like a switch flips in Eddie’s head, because yeah, that’s Richie’s serious voice. Like his actual honest to god, _ don’t fuck with me right now _ , serious voice, and Eddie’s memories might still be shot to shit, but he knows for a fact he’s only ever heard Richie use _ that _Voice one other time. 

** **

He still doesn’t give the phone back, because he needs Richie to be- _ present _ . At least, right now, but he does follow as Richie picks up his pace for the Library. He is also _ still _covered in vomit. 

** **

**~~~**

** **

Ben and Bev make it to the library before them. They’re sat outside near Ben’s truck, talking quietly, and Eddie shoots them a panicked look as they walk up to meet them. Bev raises an eyebrow but doesn’t ask. 

** **

“I couldn’t get ahold of Bill, Richie, but Mike’s trying again inside,” Ben says and Richie nods his thanks. 

“Do you both have your tokens?” Richie asks, and Ben and Bev look at one another before nodding. Richie gives them a tight smile then he makes a beeline for the library’s front doors before any of them can get a word in. 

“Is he- okay?” Ben asks, and Eddie can only shrug. He’s just as clueless as them.

** **

When they enter the library, Richie is already having a heated conversation with Mike, and Eddie can tell without hearing anything because Richie’s arms and hands are heavily involved. 

“What do you mean we can’t leave yet, I thought time was of the essence!”

“Bill’s not here yet for one, we can’t leave without him,” Mike speaks calmly, but Eddie can see Richie’s apparent panic seems to be spreading.

“Well, when one of us gets ahold of him we’ll tell him to meet us at Neibolt!” 

** **

“Richie, I know we don’t have time to waste, but we have to strategize a bit first.”

** **

“What the hell will we strategize about? We go in and we fuck IT up, that’s the plan.”

“_ That’s not _\- hey guys,” Mike turns to the group just now entering the library, looking obviously relieved to be interrupted.

** **

“Listen, we all have our tokens, I’m sure Bill is on his way with his. The fucking clown isn’t gonna just wait around for us to kill him, he will eat more people, like actual real people,” Richie snaps, waving his hand in front of Mike’s face, who immediately pushes him away hard.

** **

“You don’t think _ I don’t know that _\- But Richie, if we don’t do this right the first time, we don’t have another fucking chance,” Mike’s voice is harsh, harsher then Eddie’s ever heard it, and Richie looks like he’s been slapped.

** **

“We wait for Bill, and we plan,” Mike says, and he turns to the others as if they haven't already heard enough of the conversation to be uncertain of who’s making the rules. Eddie steps forward tentative and coughs. 

** **

“Listen, I still haven't cleaned up from being puked on, so do you mind if I use your bathroom, Mike?”

** **

“No!” Richie is suddenly over the shock of being yelled at by soft-spoken Mike Hanlon, racing over to stop Eddie like a fucking madman.

** **

“Richie for the love of God, what the fuck has gotten into you?” Eddie snaps, trying to move around, but Richie’s arm span is ridiculous and he just keeps sidestepping to block Eddie. 

** **

“Richie would you just-”

  
  
“Just, _ fuck- _stay here while we figure this out okay?” Richie asks, pleads really, but it’s the look in his eyes that stops Eddie. There’s a memory there, Eddie can feel it, something about Richie’s eyes. It’s definitely important, something that probably has some real significance to Eddie, but the present seems to be too much of a draw for the past to be dredged up. He takes a step back and averts his eyes.

** **

“Fine, fine- we’re going to be fucking- walking through shit and piss in like an hour anyway,” Eddie says, and he can see Richie’s shoulders visibly relax. 

** **

“I guess I wasn't the only one Pennywise terrorized,” Bev says sarcastically, and Richie just rolls his eyes and goes to stand near a dusty display case full of some cheap looking ‘artifacts’. 

** **

“Well I don’t know about you, but I’ve had a fairly peaceful trek down memory lane,” Ben says from beside her, deadpan. They all stare at him, and then Mike cracks a smile, and then Bev, Ben, Mike, and Eddie are giggling like school kids. It’s totally crazy, gasping laughter, but it makes something loosen in Eddie’s chest. He’s not sure of the last time before Derry when he’d laughed quite so genuinely. It really was too bad the circumstances were shit.

** **

“Does anyone own a gun?” Richie asks suddenly, cutting into their mirth, his eyes ripping away from a Tomahawk in the display case. 

** **

“Why would any of us own a gun?” Eddie asks not being able to help the laughter still bubbling in his chest.

“I own a gun actually,” Mike says smiling, while casually leaning back against a bookcase as if he hasn't just admitted to owning a deadly weapon. Eddie stares at him in horror as Richie gives a little whoop of appreciation.

** **

“It doesn’t have bullets- it’s mostly just insurance. I wouldn’t be able to shoot it anyway, but Derry hasn’t exactly grown more _ progressive _ . I’m still the only black person for miles, and Maine has very little restrictive gun laws, so,” Mike shrugs like it’s no big deal, but Eddie feels like a total dick. Just because _ he _ finds it terrifying to own a gun, he should've known Mike of all people would _ actually _need it for protection. 

** **

“Well, that’s better than nothing, but someone might want to carry this,” and then Richie slams his elbow into the glass display case behind him, carefully extracting the tomahawk and holding it out to the others. There are little shards of glass stuck in the leather of his jacket, but by his un-pained expression, nothings punctured. They look at him silently.

** **

Then there's a sudden chorus of _ “Richie!” _ and _ “What the fuck?” _ as Bill finally enters the library. Eddie can only imagine what he thinks as he looks at the scene before him. 

** **

“D-did I miss something?” Bill asks running to them wide-eyed, and Eddie isn’t even sure where he could begin with that.

** **

“Here ya go Bill- we have to leave now, I don’t know how much time I saved, but we have to get to Neibolt,” Richie speaks quickly, shoving the tomahawk into Bill’s hands, not waiting for an answer as he makes his way to the exit. Bill stares at the ax now in his hand, then back up at the other Losers who look at with matching looks of confusion.

Richie does not make it far out the door though before he’s slamming them shut and racing back to the others like he’s seen a ghost. Or worse.

“Bowers car is in the parking lot,” Richie says 

** **

“Bowers- _ how? _” 

** **

“Mike, are you sure you did not buy bullets?” Richie turns to him panic clear in his expression, but Mike just shakes his head.

** **

“Generally if it were anyone but Henry Bowers they’d be scared enough by the sight of the gun,” Mike says exasperated, and Richie makes a pained noise before grabbing the Tomahawk back out of Bill’s hands.

** **

“Okay, so- we make a break for Ben’s truck, please refrain from getting stabbed- you did lock your truck right?” 

** **

“Yeah- but,” Ben says unsure, but Richie just keeps going. 

“Good, cool, cool, uh someone besides Eddie or me needs to call the police, they’ll be close by, because I maybe already called in a bomb threat,” Richie says, and then he’s making his way quickly and carefully to the entrance. Bev is taking out her phone, dialing 911, her expression not broadcasting even the slightest bit of the immense panic that Eddie is feeling. 

** **

“Alright, the coast is clear, I’ll go last, but just pile into Ben’s truck as fast as you can, got it?” Richie whispers, peering out the window, brandishing his tomahawk like he’s fucking John McClane. The other Losers nod in agreement, because apparently Richie has just become the leader. Richie fucking Tozier, interim leader of the Losers club.

** **

“Alright go!” and Richie is pushing open the library doors, and they’re running, running like they are little kids again playing a deadly game of tag. Bower's old car really is there in the parking lot, and it sends a spike of fear through Eddie who picks up his pace just the slightest bit. He reaches the truck first. He quickly scans the back seat for any hunched or hidden figures, because he could totally see Bowers being that kind psychopathic asshole, to only appear in the rearview mirror before he stabs you in the head.

** **

Ben takes out his keys and starts frantically hitting the unlock button, while Bev, Bill, Mike, and Eddie pull on the door handles. Richie is behind them, back turned towards the library entrance, tomahawk raised in defense. As Eddie finally slips into a seat, he calls out-

“Come on dumbass!” Richie takes a couple more tentative steps before he turns around completely running and then jumps in the truck bed. 

** **

“Hit it Haystack!” Richie yells, and Ben shoves his keys in the ignition the truck rumbling to life. Ben backs up with so much speed Eddie can see Richie take a small tumble, but then they’re out of the parking lot, and Eddie sighs in relief. 

** **

It’s only then that a figure appears in front of them on the road. He’s older now obviously, but Eddie wouldn’t forget that fucking mullet anywhere. 

** **

Bowers is cackling, just standing there, in the middle of the street, pocket knife glinting, sharp and deadly in the weak, afternoon sunlight. Eddie doesn’t know what speed they’re going, it has to be too fast to stop, but Bev and Mike are shouting for Ben to brake. 

** **

Ben does not brake. 

** **

“Did you just fucking hit him?” Eddie yells, and Ben can’t even shrug, his shoulders are so high already. Eddie purposely does not look behind them, can’t imagine and does not want to know what a speeding truck does to a human body. 

** **

The truck is quiet. Ben isn’t really moving, besides the few safety precautions like putting on his turn signal. When they finally do come to a stoplight, Ben lets out a very long breath. 

** **

“Has this day become even weirder than like- our normal weird?” Eddie asks, and the Losers give a few noncommittal noises, but Eddie takes them as a resounding _ yes _. Richie is still in the back, knee jiggling as he stares behind them, and Eddie wonders if he saw. A wave of protectiveness rolls in Eddie’s stomach as he stares out the back window of the truck to Richie, and he suddenly hopes he hadn’t witnessed the turn out of Ben’s vehicular manslaughter.

** **

Derry isn’t that big, so it’s not long before Ben’s truck halts, and they are faced with the grimacing figure of the house at the end of Neibolt street. The five of them in the truck stare idly at the house, until there's a loud tap at the back window and the jump and turn to see Richie motioning for them to _ get a move on _. So they do, exiting the truck one by one, and Eddie just barely catches a glimpse of red shimmering on the front bumper of the truck before Mike is stepping in his way. 

** **

Neibolt is just as terrifying as it was for 13 year old Eddie Kaspbrak as it is for 40-year-old Eddie Kaspbrak. Something about the way it leers, the darkened windows and gaping door forming a monstrous face. But Eddie follows the rest of the group as they make it past the old and rusting gate, into the overgrown yard. 

** **

They don’t stop there though, and Eddie feels a weird sense of deja vu like they’re missing something. Bill hesitates as they reach the door, and it’s like he feels it too, like they’re not doing this quite right. But Richie just shoves past, opening up the door to the house, and it lets out a horrible cry into the dead silence. 

** **

Richie stays in the lead, walking through the house without hesitation, no checking over his shoulder for any terrifying creature that might pop out at any moment. Ben is beside him, and Eddie is just behind them when they enter the kitchen. Just as he crosses the threshold, the door slams behind them, and Eddie swivels around as quickly as he can, but the handle won't budge. 

** **

“It’s stuck,” Eddie says like it isn’t obvious, and Richie lets out a list of muttered curse words that pretty aptly describe the emotions Eddie is feeling at the moment. They’re back in the kitchen, after 27 years, and the dining table in the back is still smashed as if Eddie has just fallen through the ceiling. He feels his arm twinge in a phantom pain as he turns to look at the table, and Ben gives him a somber look. Richie is- Richie’s staring at the fridge. Eddie backs away from it carefully because he remembers what had come out it last time too. Richie continues to stare. ** **  
** **

Richie steps forward and slams open the fridge before either Eddie or Ben can stop him, and Eddie is looking around for something to use as a weapon, Ben already has a rusted butchers knife in his grip, which _ tetanus is a thing Ben _, but- the fridge is empty. It’s covered in green-black mold and smells like a disgusting mix of freezer burn and fried scrambled eggs, but it’s empty. 

** **

“What the fuck?” Richie mutters, and then his head swivels up, and he’s peering into the rafters, looking for something. 

** **

“Richie-?” Eddie steps forward, his hand reaching out in a comforting way when the music starts. It’s quiet, too quiet to make out the lyrics, but Eddie can hear unintelligible voices, slow and haunting. Richie stiffens immediately. As the music goes on, the volume rises.

** **

And Eddie is just now making out the words, lilting and soft, but they don’t make any goddamn sense.

** **

_ Taking a break from all your worries sure would help a lot _

** **

“Is that- is that the _ Cheers _ theme?” Ben asks suddenly, his grip on the butcher knife tightening.

** **

“_ Oh Fuck,” _Richie mutters, and then the song volume increases. And it continues to do so at a very fast rate. The walls shake with it, dust and plaster rain from the ceiling while the chorus starts up.

** **

_ Where everybody knows your name, and they’re always glad you came _

** **

“Shut up! Shut _ the fuck up! _ ” Richie yells, but the music is so loud now it hurts, Eddie and Ben have to cover their ears, but the sound seems to carry through everything. It’s vibrating through Eddie’s body like he’s breathing the music, and it’s suffocating. Eddie can feel something dripping from his ears now, he’s sure its blood, but he can’t think of anything with _ The troubles are all the same, you want to be where everybody knows your name _drowning out anything quieter than a fucking sonic boom. 

** **

Richie is still screaming something, he looks like a caged wild animal, banging on the walls, his eyes wide and frantic. Eddie is having trouble seeing now, let alone hearing like he’s been turned into some kind of sound conductor, and if it goes on for much longer he’ll be turned into sound soup. 

** **

_ Roll out of bed, Mr. Coffee’s dead, the morning’s look _\- The door to the kitchen bursts open, and Bev is standing bewildered, a now broken chair held sideways in her hands as she scans the room. Eddie and Ben are on the floor, and Eddie isn’t sure when that happened, but there’s no blood pouring from his ears, and it’s quiet enough again he can hear himself breathe, so sitting in decades of dust and decay isn’t really that big of a problem. 

** **

“What the hell just _ happened _?” Ben asks, looking just as confused as Eddie feels. Richie just shakes his head. He leans against the disgusting kitchen counter and takes a few deep breaths, a weird combination of fast in, holding and then breathing out slowly. It’s almost calming to watch it. 

** **

“Richie, w-what is it you’re not t-telling us?” Bill asks, he’s right behind Bev, and he looks just as shaken as she does, by whatever happened on their end, but he doesn’t look like he’s looking for anything but the truth. Richie turns to look at him, his eyes flinty and sharp, but it’s like he’s not seeing Bill, he’s seeing something else, somewhere else.

** **

“It has to happen like it did last time, I won’t be able to fix it if it doesn’t,” Richie says, voice shaking but resolute. The other Losers look at him and then Mike steps forward.

** **

“You’ve done this before, haven't you Rich? That’s how you knew about the kid at the carnival, and Bowers,” Mike says, and it’s not really a question, but Richie’s silence only stands to prove it.

** **

“IT _ knows _,” Richie speaks just a little above a whisper, but it’s like glass shattering in the quiet of the house. 

** **

“Richie- how much has already changed?” Bill asks quietly, moving into the kitchen slowly. Richie is silent for a moment, he won’t take his eyes off the empty fridge. 

** **

“Enough- enough has changed- we just- we just need to do the ritual and I can- I can _ make sure _ that-,” he doesn’t finish, he doesn’t need to. If IT was involved, nothing good could have happened. 

“Okay, okay, we’ll- we’ll follow your lead Richie,” Mike says, placing a comforting hand on Richie’s shoulder, but it looks as if he can’t even feel it.

** **

They don’t really have that many options besides to go through with the plan. So as the group shuffles slow and unsteady to the basement, Eddie tries to make eye contact with Richie, but he won’t even look in Eddie’s direction. So as they descend Eddie tries not to think about what horrible thing could have happened the first time around.

** **

**~~~**

** **

Things go to shit nearly right off the bat. They barely even make it into IT’s actual lair before the fucker starts throwing all his best tricks their way. Eddie feels like a fucking kid again, more than he has during this entire trip because the monster under his bed is real, always has been, and there are no adults around because he’s never had the chance to grow up anyway.

** **

IT doesn’t manage to deal with any serious blows, the Losers are bruised, battered, and terrified, but Richie seems to be affected the worst. Like all of IT’s jabs are landing ten times harder than they are on the rest of them. Eddie isn’t sure what the fuck they’re doing, if they’re waiting for a chance to complete the ritual, or if they’re actually going to have to fight at some point but those thoughts go out the window when Richie gets caught in the deadlights.

** **

It had been Eddie’s fucking fault. He’d gotten caught away from the others, and he’d froze up like he was 13 again, and IT was leering over him and his broken arm all over again. 

** **

Richie had snapped, had started throwing rocks and calling IT a _ sloppy bitch _ of all things and then he was caught. Face slack and eyes white, hanging there for IT like a piece of hooked meet. 

** **

So Eddie had thrown Bev’s monster-killing spear. He didn’t hesitate, because that was Richie. He couldn’t hesitate for Richie. And the spear struck true, and the lights flickered out as IT stumbled backward and down. 

** **

Richie drops like a pile of stones, and Eddie’s racing towards him, checking, unbelieving at IT’s fallen form before he’s shaking Richie awake, smiling and giddy because-

** **

_ Fuck, fuck did he just do it? _

** **

“Hey, there he is, buddy. Hey, Richie listen I think I got him man I did it, I think I killed IT-” Richie pushes him to the side so fast that Eddie isn’t even sure what's happened until the back of his head thumps hard against the stone floor. He’s dazed for a moment and he’s about to start cursing when he turns and sees the massive claw stuck into the ground where Richie and he had just been. 

** **

_ That would have- _

** **

The claw shudders pulling itself out of the rock like a fucking scorpion tail, and Eddie shoves at Richie to move, who grunts in surprise but gets off quickly, grabbing at Eddie's hand before they’re both stumbling away, making a break for one of the tiny tunnel systems. They dive in quickly as another of IT’s feelers strikes out, and Eddie lands on his shoulder with a groan. But he’s okay. Because he hadn’t just been gouged through the middle. 

** **

“_ Fuck _,” Richie mutters, and Eddie scrambles up off the ground to find where he’d landed. Richie is huddled just a little farther in, laying flat on his back. It’s dark but Eddie can see the blood immediately. Richie’s jacket is torn at the arm, a great swath of material missing, and underneath is a mess of skin, blood and bone. 

** **

“Oh shit, fuck,” Eddie gasps out, scrambling to remove his zip-up, tying it around Richie’s arm as a tourniquet. Richie shudders, eyes glassy with pain.

** **

“This- this didn’t happen last time,” Richie mutters, wincing as Eddie knots the jacket again. 

** **

“Hmm, cool, what _ did _ happen last time Richie?” Eddie snaps because he’s fucking sick of this game that’s being played around him. Richie’s hurt because he couldn’t just trust that the Losers would have his back. That _ Eddie _would have his back.

“I didn’t push you out of the way,” Richie gasps, and Eddie just stares at him for a moment. 

** **

_ He hadn’t- _

“Richie, how do we defeat IT?” 

** **

“You do it Eds, you _ know _,” Richie whispers, his eyes drooping, and god Eddie knows he’s losing too much blood. 

“Richie- Richie, no-look, I don’t, I’m not _ brave _enough,” Eddie pleads, just barely keeping himself from shaking Richie because he’s bleeding out and that couldn’t possibly be helpful, but dire situation and all. Eddie needs to stop overthinking.

** **

“Just fucking remember dude,” Richie glares half-heartedly at him, grimacing through the pain and still obviously only barely clinging to consciousness. 

** **

So Eddie tries to remember. Tries to remember being brave.

** **

Eddie had forgotten. _ IT _had made him forget. That he’d run into a germ-infested creek, screaming like a maniac, to throw rocks at boys twice his size. That he’d stood up to his mother, who had lied to him about being weak, and sick, for so many years. He’d forgotten about fighting a monster with a broken arm. 

** **

And that bravery had been taken from him. _ Stolen _ . No. Worse than stolen, _ erased _ . Like a second-guessed question on a test. He’d repeated the past because _ IT _ made them small, made them weak, made them _ children _. He’d wasted 15 years in a marriage to a woman who, for all intents and purposes, had treated him like he was a porcelain baby doll. 

** **

It’s so horribly, terribly frustrating to remember now. To know that there could have been more. Should have been more to his life, except this stupid fucking clown had taken that away from him. 

** **

“_ Playing hide and seek are we, want to guess whose IT? _” Pennywise’s voice echoes through the cavern, and Eddie doesn’t feel brave. He knows he can be though. Richie’s passed out, but his pulse is still relatively strong. They’ve got time. 

** **

Eddie stands on shaky legs, he’s still covered in dried lepers vomit, and he walked through miles of greywater sewer system, and Richie’s blood has stained into his light blue polo, but Eddie- _ doesn’t care _. He stopped caring a while ago. 

** **

“_ You’re weak Eddie-bear, didn’t you ever listen to your mother _,” IT croons as if hearing his thoughts, and one of its claws comes crashing down hard on a slab of rock, sending shards flying, tumbling down into their hiding spot. 

** **

“_ Poor little Eddie Kaspbrak, can’t run now, couldn’t run then _.” Another claw, more rock shards, something clips Eddie's cheek, but he barely feels it. The others are hidden, which is good, but Richie said Eddie knew how to stop it. Does he know how to stop IT?

** **

“_ Not strong enough _,” Pennywise hisses, and it feels like the words are dripping down Eddie’s back, pooling along with the fear in his stomach. 

** **

“I-” the words get stuck in his throat as he watches blood seep from Richie's mangled arm, into his shirt. 

** **

“_ Not tough enough _.” IT’s massive body rolls forward, peering over jagged corners, eyes that aren’t eyes canvassing the dark blood-spattered ground.

** **

“I-” Eddie’s choking. He needs his inhaler.

** **

“Not brave enough,” IT screams, the walls shaking with the intensity. 

** **

Except- Eddie knows that’s not fucking true. 

** **

He’s running before he realizes he’s even taken a step. He runs straight out of the tunnel into the wide-open cavern, and he doesn’t even think. 

** **

_ Some risk analyst you are _

** **

IT immediately finds him, and Eddie averts his gaze from the lights he knows will follow. He stands his ground.

** **

“_ You look tired Eddie-Bear, are you under the weather? _ ” IT asks, smug as fuck like it’s already won. Well, _ fuck _that.

** **

“I- I know you are, but what am I!” 

IT stumbles backward. 

** **

“_ You’re a weak little boy _,” IT hisses, but it isn’t quite so searing, and Eddie takes a step forward.

** **

“I know _ you are _ but what am I!”

** **

“_ You’re sick, you’re _-”

** **

“I KNOW YOU ARE, BUT WHAT AM I!”

** **

And then Eddie sees with blinding clarity. IT’s getting smaller. IT looks _ scared _.

** **

“You’re the sick one! A sick, hobbling lepper, who I choked in a drug store basement,” Eddie screams, and IT recoils like it’s been slapped.

** **

“_ I’m am the devourer of _ -” 

  
“You’re an old woman!” Bev’s voice comes across the cavern sharp and clear, and IT keens from the noise. Eddie is shaking, but it’s from relief and gratitude as Bev stumbles from her hiding place, cut up and bruised, but standing tall.

** **

“_ I am your fear, I know you _ ,” IT wails, IT’s form shrinking and shivering and changing too rapidly for Eddie to catch each form. 

“You don’t know shit!” Eddie roars, and IT actual yelps, like a kicked dog. 

** **

“You’re just a clown!” Bill’s voice yells, clear and confident.

“A shapeshifter!” Ben shouts.

“A fucking crab!” Mike hollers.

** **

“A god damn fucking clown!” Eddie spits out, looks down and there's IT on the floor of the cavern backed into a corner, small and terrified, and Eddie smiles.

** **

“_ You fear me- _” IT gasps, eyes wide, scared, and Eddie takes a step forward.

** **

“No,” Eddie says, and he believes it. 

They crush IT’s heart, and Eddie doesn’t flinch at how disgusting that is, because he did it. He really did kill IT Rich-

** **

_ Richie _

** **

_ “ _Richie,” Eddie gasps out, and he’s running, stumbling and tripping on the loose pieces of stone, and blood. The Losers follow after him, a bit more careful as they pick their way through the jagged rocks, but they don’t exactly have the same incentive as Eddie does.

** **

Richie is still there, unconscious, but he’s breathing, slow and not exactly steady, but he’s breathing. 

** **

“_ Ben, Mike _ I need your help!” Eddie calls, trying to prop up Richie’s head because that helps with airflow right? 

** **

“_ Shit _,” Ben says as he crouches down to pick up Richie, and Eddie glares at him to shut it, because it’s bad but he doesn’t need to say it.

** **

The cavern shakes, and Eddie can hear Bill calling for them to hurry, which they’re _trying to_ _Bill_. 

** **

They manage it though, Richie may be tall as fuck but he’s like a string bean, Ben’s words not Eddie’s. They make it through the crumbling caverns, through the sewers, back up the well, and out of the Neibolt house. It collapses with deafening thud, a wave of decaying air pushing them forward, making them stumble the last few feet.

** **

And it’s gone.

** **

_ 27 years of bad luck down the drain. _

** **

Eddie giggles. He covers his face with a hand that’s covered in blood and sewer slime, and he laughs, and laughs and laughs. The other Losers don’t say anything, Ben and Mike lift Richie into the truck, make sure he’s secure, that the tourniquet hasn’t come loose. And Eddie just keeps laughing, like he’s a fucking psycho because maybe he is now. All that crazy had to go somewhere. 

** **

Bev is the one who stops him. She just takes his hand. Takes it and squeezes, and whatever was bubbling up in his chest is gone, and he’s just left shaking. Bev doesn’t let go.

** **

**~~~**

** **

They make it to the emergency room in under fifteen minutes with Mike driving. Eddie is never, _ ever _getting in a motor vehicle with the man again, but for Richie’s sake, the near heart attack was worth it.

** **

He’s admitted, and the Losers are left standing helplessly in the Derry Municipal Hospital waiting room, looking like they’d just come from hell. 

** **

_ Hadn’t they though? _

** **

Eddie bites down on his lip hard, because he’s worried if he starts laughing again, he won’t stop this time. He sits down on an unbelievable uncomfortable waiting chair and hopes that the others won’t leave him. 

** **

They don’t, except intermittently, Mike, who mutters something about _ coffee _, and Bill who follows a nurse to fill out important paperwork. Eddie doesn’t really hear. He thinks it’s the shock. 

** **

He doesn’t know when he falls asleep, or _ how _, because when he wakes back up his back is killing him, and his neck is about to start a revolt. Bev is standing over him with a paper coffee cup, and it looks like she’s changed shirts. It’s two sizes too big on her, and Eddie without a second thought, knows it’s Ben’s. The other Losers are spread out across the waiting room, dozing, but Bev looks wide awake. He takes the coffee and offers her a seat next to him.

** **

“The coffee’s shit, but I thought it would be better than sitting on an empty stomach,” she says, sitting down lightly, and he nods his thanks while taking a scalding sip. The idea of forming words hurts his brain, but he knows Bev wants to talk. 

** **

So he lets her because he likes to hear her talk, and he’s missed her voice. She sounded confident at 13, and she sounds confident at 40. Eddie wishes he understood how. 

** **

She talks about her job in New York, about how she knows he lives there too now, and about all her favorite little bakeries, and bars. She talks to him about what she plans on doing next. Just a bit. There are a few casual glances in Ben’s direction, but Eddie gets it. Eddie really does.

** **

She doesn’t talk about Tom. She skirts the subject, talking around him instead. And then Bev pauses. Draws her knees up to her chest, and she looks young, impossibly so, and she lets a little breath out that makes strands of her hair wave in the air. Like little bits of flame, warm and bright and Bev.

** **

“Eddie, what’s your wife like?” Bev asks, her voice so small, so fragile, Eddie can’t even be surprised. He just looks down at his feet, at his soft brown loafers, way beyond repair now. He exhales slowly.

** **

“Myra is-” his mind blanks. It goes static and grey. What is she? This woman he’s been married to for fifteen years. She’s, she is- 

** **

_ Your mom _Richie’s voice teases.

“Myra is fine,” Eddie rasps, turning to look at Bev, hoping she gets it. What he can’t say. Not yet.

** **

She nods, because she asked, and she gets it. 

**~~~**

** **

Richie gets out of surgery a couple of hours later. Eddie’s spine is most definitely permanently damaged from the waiting room seats, but Richie is alive. _ He’s okay _, the doctors assure them. Apparently whatever had gouged his arm in the car accident had left the bone undamaged. Eddie looks at Bill who shrugs half-heartedly, and he supposes it was a better lie then he’d have come with, so he just nods along about the other damages that Richie sustained in the ‘car crash’. A concussion, a minor rib fracture, but he’s stable. He’s breathing. He’s alive.

** **

The hospital won’t let them visit. Some backward fucking rule about letting patients rest when it’s one in the morning and Eddie spends a good twenty minutes throwing insults back and forth with a very rude nurse. Suffice it to say, Eddie is the first to be removed from the hospital, and Ben follows him, apologizing profusely because he’s a _ coward _, but he does drive Eddie back to the Inn, so there's that.

** **

Eddie finally gets to take a shower. It’s probably the best shower he’s ever had in his entire life, even despite the shit water pressure and immediate lukewarm temperature. He shampoo’s his hair at least twice, and scrubs and scrubs until his skin is tender and basically glowing red. He may go a little overboard, but he’d sacrificed a lot in the manner of personal hygiene the last couple of days that he can’t think to feel embarrassed by it. He deserved one obsessively clean shower. 

** **

When Eddie finally does step out of the shower, he isn’t really surprised to find an hour already passed. Eddie changes into one of his older t-shirts, a soft off white thing, and a pair of loose grey sweats.

** **

It’s three o’clock in the morning when Ben knocks on his door with messages from the others, asking him to _ try and get some sleep _ , that the _ hospital was still strong-arming them, on the whole, no visitors thing _. Ben asks if he needs anything, Eddie says he's alright for the moment, and then Ben leaves him.

** **

All he has left to do now is try and sleep. 

** **

He has to turn down the sheets before he feels comfortable laying down on the Inn bed, but once he does he knows immediately he’s not going to be sleeping anyway. The idea is- phenomenally ridiculous. 

** **

_ Sleeping _ ? After killing _ IT _ ? With _ Richie _in the hospital? 

** **

Eddie turns the bedside lamp back on and stares forlornly at the outdated popcorn ceiling. His eyes hurt, and he wonders if maybe he needs to start buying eye drops now, and then he realizes that’s dumb, and he’s exauhsted. He can’t even scroll aimlessly through his phone, because it’s shattered, waterlogged and generally all things phones shouldn’t be. 

** **

_ Stupid fucking clown _.

** **

After an hour or two more of just laying there on the top of covers, wide awake but not, he stumbles down stairs. There’s a bookshelf in the lounge, filled with shitty looking paperbacks, and Eddie grabs the first one he can. It’s a horror novella, because of course, it is, with haunted houses on hills and dog killing vampires. It’s also written by a very obviously straight man. Eddie’s not sure anyone in the history of ever has called actual breasts _ Jahoobies _ before _ , _but it startles a giggle out of him despite the blatant sexism of the remark. 

** **

_ He’d have to tell Richie about it when- _

** **

Eddie closes the book slowly. The memory hits slower than the others. Like the tide coming in instead of Tsunami. 

** **

_“Jesus, did you see the size of that girls honkers,”_ _Richie stage whispers, and his breath tickles Eddie’s neck he’s pressed so close. They’re outside the Banana Split, a brand new ice-cream shack right outside of Derry. It’s summer, and Eddie had only just convinced his mother to let him go. He hadn’t mentioned Richie would be there. Would be the only other Loser present. _

** **

_ They’re sixteen and it’s unbelievably hot, even with the air condition wafting from the open window of the shack behind them. They’re both wearing shorts, but Richie’s got on a tank top that outgrew him a year ago. It keeps riding up. Eddie feels something sharp twist in his gut. _

** **

_ “No, I was too busy thinking about your sisters,” Eddie snaps, jabbing his elbow backward, and Richie squawks with laughter, drawing eyes their way- but they’re just two boys roughhousing. Nothing to see there. _

** **

_ Nothing. To see. There. _

** **

_ “Touchy, touchy Eddie-spaghetti, what? The heat melting your brain already?” Richie giggles, mouth too big for his face, splitting into a grinning smile. There's chocolate smeared over his top lip, sticky and dirty and Eddie wants to- _

** **

“Eddie?” a light at the top of the stairs flicks on, and Ben is there, sleep tousled and red eyed. Eddie blinks at him owlishly. 

** **

“Uh- I just got a call from Bev- They’re letting visitors in now,” Ben says waving his phone as if to indicate Bev’s call. Eddie kind of just, continues to stare.

** **

“I can- drive you if you want?” Ben asks after a long pause, and Eddie stands so quickly, the paperback he was reading tumbles to the ground with a soft thump. 

** **

“Yep, yeah- let’s uh, go.” Ben nods slowly, barely concealing the suspicious glance in Eddie’s direction, says he’s just going to go change first, and then Eddie is alone again. Left alone with thoughts of-

_The heat melting your brain already?_

** **

_ Dripping ice cream. Too small tank tops. _

** **

_ Eddie wanting to kiss the smeared chocolate off of Richie’s lips. _

** **

“Oh _ shit _,” Eddie whispers.

** **

**~~~**

** **

Richie is awake by the time Ben and he make it to the hospital. He’s not _ lucid _, but he’s awake. When Eddie finds him, he’s having an in depth discussion with Bev about pet turtle care, his left arm tucked close to his body in a sling. Eddie stops in the doorway and just watches them for a moment.

** **

Richie’s got bags under his eyes so dark they look like bruises. His hair is tangeld and matted, and the pale blue hospital gown only makes his skin look that much more pallid. He’s probably the most beautiful thing that Eddie’s seen since he was sixteen and trying not to have a panic attack about rocky road ice cream.

** **

Richie’s eyes catch sight of him.

** **

“Eds, you made it! I was just explaining to Bev here, that turtles are like- the fucking coolest pets. They love you unconditionally, _ and _ have three sets of eyelids,” 

“Hey Rich.” He says it soft. Probably to soft, because Bev’s eyes immediately find his, and she’s smiling.

** **

“I’ll just- get some more coffee,” Bev says sliding from her seat and sidling past Eddie with a too knowing look. He refrains from rolling his eyes, but he knows he’s blushing as he takes the empty seat. Richie smiles at him, all big and goofy because he’s definitely high on all kinds of medication. Eddie seriously needs whatever butterflies are in his stomache to stop fucking moving.

** **

“Sorry I wasn’t here when you woke up,” Eddie says, which Richie immediately sticks his tongue out too.

** **

“Dude, you went 36 straight hours without showering, surprised you didn’t just combust on the spot. Besides Bev told me you got in a catfight with a nurse on my behalf, so all’s forgiven Eddie-Spaghetti,” Richie giggles at the nick name, and Eddie can see his eyes are drooping. He can see Richie’s purposely trying to stay awake for him.

** **

“How’s your arm?”

** **

_ The arm that was gouged by a clown claw? I’m sure it's just peachy Eddie. _

** **

“Hmm- oh, been better. But I was almost hoping I’d lose it, ya know? Then I could get like, a cool Robo one. Terminator two baby,” Richie smiles lazily at him, head turned towards him but eyes unfocused without his glasses, and Eddie can’t help but laugh.

** **

“Yeah, you might not want to talk with the hard drugs running through your system.”

** **

“Hard drugs mean nothing to me,” Richie says, letting his head fall back down onto the pillows. 

** **

“I don’t even know what that means,” Eddie says, leaning back in his seat to watch as Richie’s eyes droop again.

** **

“It means, I can’t feel my face,” Richie mutters. 

** **

“_Mmhm_\- why don’t you go back to sleep now Rich,” Eddie says smiling softly. 

** **

“Sounds like a wonderful… life,” and then Richie is asleep. But he’s okay. He’s okay, and Eddie has time.


	2. Chapter 2

Eddie is fairly certain the nurses hate him. 

Okay, Eddie is 97% sure every nurse at Derry Municipal hospital hates him with a fiery passion. They are-  _ definitely  _ out for his blood. 

To be fair, it’s not as if he can help his anxiety when nurse Conners stabs Richie’s arm at least four different times before she actually reaches his vein. Or when nurse James happens to forget Richie needs actual food, and not whatever the fuck jello is. Eddie knows how to take care of people. It’s the one good thing that came from being coddled his entire life. He knows what works and what definitely fucking doesn’t. 

The nurses of Derry Municipal, however, absolutely do not agree with this philosophy of his.

He has been removed a total of 7 times over the course of Richie’s five-day stay at the hospital. He has half a week left before he’s discharged.

“Eddie, honey- maybe it’s best if you just let the nurses do their jobs.” 

It’s 4:30 in the afternoon. Richie is passed out again on pain medication, and Eddie is in the middle of a rather heated argument with nurse Conners about how she should consider drawing an X in sharpie before she gouges someone’s arm repeatedly. Now Bev is in the middle of it.

“But-” Eddie starts.

“I think your lady friend has got the right idea Mr. Kaspbrak,” nurse Conners says, her face pursed into its usual look of disgust. Eddie dislikes her the most.

“You can call me Marsh  _ thanks _ , Eddie- a word?” Bev sends an icy look in nurse Conners direction and nods her head to the door. Considering Eddie likes the fact he’s alive, he follows her quickly. He does, however, shoot one last withering glare over his shoulder. 

The hospital hallway is basically empty, save for a few ambling doctors, and custodial staff. Bev, thankfully, doesn’t actually look angry at him, more highly concerned. Which might still be a problem. 

“Eddie, I don’t mean to- be invasive, but it might help if you end your war on the staff here,” Bev says it simply- like it’s a simple thing that Eddie can just do. He’ll flip a switch and suddenly he’s not hyper-actively aware of every wrong move the nurses make in Richie’s direction. Like he can just ignore the old memories that keep popping up in his head, reminding him more and more that he’s been in love with his best friend since he was twelve years old. Richie being in pain means Eddie’s in pain. 

It’s not simple, is what he’s trying to get at.   
  


“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Eddie replies, and because he’s had a lot of practice lying throughout his life, he doesn't think it comes out too strained. Bev obviously sees right through him though, her eyes glinting sharp and inquisitive. She could always see better than all the other Losers. It was her gift.

“What else am I supposed to do?” he snaps, and immediately regrets it, but-  _ what is he supposed to do? _ He can’t just stop coming back to the hospital.  _ He can’t _ . But Bev can see that too, of course she can, and her hand lands softly on his arm with a comforting squeeze.

“Eddie, you’ve basically been living here since Richie’s woken up. He knows that you're worried about him, and he would understand if you- took some time away from the hospital.” 

She’s absolutely right. He has no legitimate reason to be at the hospital 24/7. He absolutely shouldn’t be bothering the nurses about the jobs that they’re fine at. He shouldn’t be hanging around Richie like a dying man near water. 

But he has to because he hasn’t been able to for the past 23 years. 

“It’s only four more days Bev. He still has surgery to go through for the skin graft, I can’t not be here for that,” he says it calmly as if he won’t have a panic attack if she asks him to stay away for longer than an hour. 

“At least stop sleeping here. Richie doesn’t appreciate the fact you're killing your back in the waiting room chairs.”

“Have any of us actually been sleeping Bev?” He knows he hasn’t, besides twenty minutes tops. It’s not just the chairs that keep him up, and Eddie knows that it’s the same for the rest of them. Bev just sighs, an avid agreement if Eddie’s ever heard one.    
  


“Alright, fine- but do not blame me for the future chiropractor bills,” Bev says putting her hands up in surrender. 

Eddie doesn’t want to disappoint her completely though. He’s an adult, he can do compromise. 

“Yeah, okay- I’ll try and lay off the nurses- but I swear to God if Conners comes at him with a needle again I’ll sue,” Eddie says, his eyes shifting to the room where he knows Conners is probably looming over Richie like the wrinkled vampire she looks like.

“You really haven't changed huh?” Bev says a smile playing on her lips as she gives a small shake of her head. She then turns to make her way to the waiting room.

  
“That’s the problem,” he mutters, watching Bev make her way down the hall, probably to where Ben is waiting, all rugged handsomeness and dreamy smiles. 

_ Ugh _ . 

**~~~**

Eddie doesn’t leave the hospital, but it’s only because Richie wakes up just as he decides to give in three hours later, with the thought of maybe picking up some non-hospital food. Visiting hours aren’t over quite yet, so Eddie’s been camped out right next to his bed, still reading that terrible horror novella when Richie’s eyes blink open. Eddie’s on him immediately. It’s definitely embarrassing. 

“ _ Hey _ , hey- how ya doing?” Eddie asks, and he really is trying to keep the excitement from his voice, but he knows it’s a lost cause when Richie grins crookedly at him in amusement.

“What- you miss me?” Richie asks groggily, and Eddie just about says  _ yes _ . Unfortunately fighting and killing a murderous clown doesn’t automatically, not make you a coward when it comes to sharing genuine feelings. It’s incredibly annoying. Instead, Eddie says-

“No, it’s just a foreign concept for me to have you quiet for more than five seconds.” 

“Still sounds like you missed me,” Richie counters, fluttering his eyelashes in a way that definitely does nothing for Eddie.  _ Nothing _ . He changes the subject anyway.

“You hungry? I was just about to head downstairs for something,” he stands from his chair so quickly it screeches, and they both end up cringing from the sound. Richie gives him a look, and something Eddie would have been able to name 27 years ago flashes across his face, but now Eddie is clueless as to what he’s thinking. Richie finally lets out a long sigh and lets his head relax back onto his pillow.

“Nah, these meds are throwing my appetite,” Richie says waving off Eddie’s offer, but lack of appetite is not something Eddie can just let go.

“I fucking told them they needed to lower the dosage, you’ve basically been in a medically induced coma since we got here,” Eddie mutters, about ready to storm out into the hall on the warpath.

“Eddie- dude, five more days and then we’re out of here. You’ve gotta keep it together,” Richie calls after him, and Eddie stops at the door looking back at him with the flattest expression he can manage. 

“It’s four more days Richie.”

Richie’s eyes widen. “Shit  _ really? _ What happened to Tuesday?”

“You slept through it,” Eddie sighs, leaning against the doorway. 

“Whoa, wait then what the hell happened with Ben?” 

It is a safe assumption to make that a lot of very weird, very messed up crap has happened to Eddie in the last week. The fact he may have,  _ kind of _ forgotten one of his friends had been escorted from the hospital by the Derry police on charges of manslaughter, well- he certainly felt he couldn’t be blamed for it. It’s not like things hadn’t worked out in the end, which is exactly what he explains to Richie.    
  


“Oh, well- I- he only got dragged to the station for a bit but I don’t think the police really- uh cared that much? They let him go after about an hour of questioning- which is definitely not how any legal system works but- Bowers didn’t exactly have the sympathy of the town or-  _ anyone  _ really.”

Richie nods a couple of times, not really looking surprised. “Huh- at least  _ that _ didn’t change from last time- Derry’s police can really only be counted on for being shitty I guess.”

Richie rarely talks about the last time, and Eddie hasn’t exactly tried to pry. He knows that- he hadn’t made it through, and that’s not exactly something he wants to think about. 

“Well- I- I should really get something to eat. I think Bev’s in the waiting room, I’ll have her come in to keep you company,” Eddie says patting the door jamb awkwardly as he takes a step back into the hallway. 

“Pick me up green flavored jello would you?” Richie calls to him and Eddie has to cover his mouth to not laugh in front of three doctors. 

**~~~**

Eddie knew the calls would start pouring in at some point. It’s honestly amazing they hadn’t come sooner. He receives the first two days before Richie’s release. It’s nurse Conners who informs him there’s someone on line 3 waiting for him.

Eddie wasn’t sure he was capable of real actual fear after facing off with a killer clown from (apparently) outer space, but as he takes the phone from the apathetic guy behind the nurse's station, he feels dread settle uncomfortably over him.

“This is Edward Kaspbrak speaking,” he doesn’t let his voice waver, but he can feel the hand not gripping the corded phone, shaking.

“Eddie? Oh thank god- do you know how long I’ve been trying to get ahold of you? I’ve been worried sick! You left so suddenly, and you didn’t tell me where you were going! I had to call the car rental service and then have them tell me you’re in the middle of nowhere Maine!” Myra’s voice wails over the phone, and Eddie can feel his chest constricting, the urge to grab for an inhaler building.

“I don’t know why you would do this to me! You know we were supposed to host Susanna’s baby shower this weekend! I had to do that all by myself. Do you know how embarrassed I was! People kept asking me  _ ‘where’s Eddie? _ ’ and I couldn’t tell them! My own husband! I’m sure they all thought you’d run off with some floozy, left me with a house I can’t afford by myself with no backup!” Eddie can’t speak, it’s like his vocal cords are jammed up. 

“But I know that’s not true, and you wouldn’t leave me Eddie-Bear. This has all been some big misunderstanding right? When you get back we’ll have a nice sit-down and- and we’ll get you to see a therapist-”

“Why would I need a therapist?” Eddie snaps suddenly, but if Myra catches his harsh tone it badly registers as she continues. 

“Well, obviously this all some midlife crisis! I should have seen it sooner, but you’ve been spending too many hours working and it just got to you right? You’re overstressed! But that’s fine Eddie Bear, I’ll find someone who’ll prescribe you some anxiety medication and-”

“I don’t need any  _ medication _ .” Eddie’s voice cracks on the last word, and he wishes fervently that he wasn’t so openly displayed, leaning over the nurse’s station. He wishes one of the Losers would walk by, tell him they needed him elsewhere. He wishes Myra hadn’t found him.

“Eddie, I’m worried about you. I’m your wife, I’m supposed to worry about you! You’re acting erratically, and how do you think that affects me? I’m stress eating Eddie, that’s bad for my health! You  _ are _ coming back soon, aren’t you? You wouldn’t leave me alone for much longer would you?” 

“I-” 

“ _ Edddiiieee,”  _ he can hear what she’s doing, the added weight she’s placing on his name like she’s about to start crying. He knows she’s not, but it’s like he’s one of Pavlov’s fucking dogs because it immediately makes guilt sink heavily to the bottom of his stomach. 

“I- I’ll be back in three days,” he says shakily, and Myra starts talking again, something about having cleaners in before he gets back, and how much it will cost, and if he’s checked in with AutoCraft about his car yet, but Eddie can’t concentrate on her voice anymore, somehow. Can’t seem to focus on even the counter top in front of him. 

“Sir?” the guy behind the nurse’s station is looking at him in concern, and Eddie realizes he’s dropped the phone onto the counter. 

“Uh- low blood sugar,” he mutters, and then he’s taking the phone and slamming it down onto the receiver. The guy behind the station-  _ Brian _ , his name tag reads, jumps and gives him an even more concerned look. Eddie nods politely and then begins walking as fast as he can to Richie’s room. 

Eddie’s not sure what his plan is exactly, but his heart feels like it’s beating in every part of his body,  _ thump, thump, thump _ . It’s unsettling and overwhelming, and Eddie knows suddenly how the crazy guy from a Tell-Tale Heart must have felt. He thinks hysterically, it would’ve been nice to know this when he’d read it 9th grade. 

“He’s  _ right  _ behind you Dora, just turn around-  _ Eddie? _ ” Eddie hadn’t even realized he’d made it to Richie’s room, but now he’s standing frozen in the doorway watching Richie watch Dora the Explorer. Eddie goes to sit, and Richie scrambles to find the T.V remote with one hand, which Eddie picks up for him and presses the off button silently. 

“Uh- it was either Dora or- like Sesame Street, lesser of two children’s shows ya know-”

“I want to talk about it,” Eddies says, and it’s like he’s having an out of body experience because he’s pretty sure he does in no way want to talk about what he thinks he just asked for.

“About Dora?” Richie asks, and Eddie would be laughing at the hesitant tilt to his head, and the too-small look of his eyes without glasses, but- he knows if he jokes now, he won’t be able to go through with this.

“ _ No _ , I don’t mean Dora Richie- I mean, the time travel and what happened before you- came back.” 

It’s out, and it hangs in the air between them, heavy and thick like smoke, but it’s like a pressure that was building in Eddie’s chest has been removed. He sags back slightly in his chair, and watches as Richie’s face does go through several year’s worth of emotional turmoil before settling on something like dread. 

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” Eddie replies, and he waits. Richie gives him a hard look, shifts uncomfortably 

“What do you- want to know?”

Eddie doesn’t have to think hard for that one. “How did it happen?” 

Richie tells him. It’s an obviously edited version of whatever he’d gone through. There are no mentions of how long it had really been for him before he made it back, or what happened to the rest of the Losers in that time, but he does talk about the dreams. Street Fighter, a thirteen-year-old silent Richie Tozier, a constant losing streak, and then with the final game won a reward in the form of a do-over. 

Eddie listens patiently, tries not to think too hard about the significance of the cheat Richie had used, because that was  _ their _ cheat, he remembers that. 

“I think he was trying to prepare me, I think that’s why it took so long. There’s no way I would have had a clear enough head to- to save the kid at the carnival and- yeah, and not like fuck it up spectacularly,” Richie finishes his voice quiet, and Eddie knows he’s trying for humor, mouth tilting up into what should be a smile, but falls a couple miles short of anything close.

“You wouldn’t have fucked it up Rich,” Eddie says, and in a moment of extreme bravery, he doesn't stop himself from placing his hand on top of Richie’s. It’s cold, and Eddie thinks vaguely that they should probably get him walking soon because his circulation has to be shit, but Richie is looking at him in a way he hasn’t seen since they were kids. It’s soft and uncensored, and Eddie can’t even feel nervous about how nice it makes him feel. 

“Yeah well, we got through it, which is- all that fucking matters now,” Richie says suddenly, breaking eye contact, which startles Eddie enough to pull his hand away. They sit in awkward silence for a moment, and Eddie almost wants to turn Dora back on.

_ So much for being brave. He’s straight dumbass. The straightest.  _

“So- anymore, pressing questions about my adventures as Marty McFly?” 

There is suddenly a very pressing question Eddie needs to be answered. If Eddie now remembers certain ‘I’m in love with my best friend” details, then surely other Eddie had as well. And if he really had  _ died _ , then well, there had to have been a confession of sorts. 

_ Did he already know? _

Eddie has to let out a shaky breath before he can voice his question. “What happened last time, when I- when I didn’t make it out of Neibolt. Before I- did I  _ say  _ anything to you?” 

Richie’s face visibly pales, his eyes quickly travel up to the darkened T.V and stay there. 

Eddie isn’t sure if he’s going to reply until Richie’s mouth opens and his voice comes out hoarse. “You uh- said you fucked my mom.”

Eddie blinks once. Twice. Out of all the things he could have said in the form of a possible relationship shattering confession, this is by far the worst option Eddie could have foreseen. He lets his head drop into his hand, he takes a deep breath and tries not to feel like crying. Richie makes some kind of noise of distress, which Eddie knows means he’s not exactly hiding his reaction well.

“Whoa, hey- it was- sentimental, I didn’t- they weren’t bad last words!”

“Those were my  _ last words _ ?” Eddie yelps, his head swiveling up to see Richie, who now looks like a deer in the headlights. 

“I mean your last words- to me but-”

“I’m a fucking idiot,” Eddie says roughly running a hand over his face. 

“ _ Hey- _ no you’re fucking not,” Richie’s voice is hard, and it startles Eddie enough that he has to look him in the eyes. He’s sat up in bed now, his expression a mixture of frustration and sorrow. 

“It was  _ bad  _ Eddie, and I- you were just trying to make me feel better. So  _ no _ , you’re not fucking stupid okay? They may have been relatively shitty last words in the grand scheme of things, but they were yours, and they meant something important to me,” Richie says, his eyes fixed on Eddie’s. His eyes were rimmed red and shiny, and Eddie suddenly feels like a complete asshole for bringing any of this up.

“I’m sorry- I shouldn’t have- it didn’t happen this time, I shouldn’t have made you talk about it,” Eddie says, and he can’t help the way his voice wavers. 

He hates this. He wants to leave, but he doesn’t want to leave Richie. He thinks that’s always been the fucking problem.

“It was your death, Eddie, you have a right to know.” It’s the first time either of them has actually used the word  _ death _ when talking about it. It stops Eddie in his tracks, and he realizes their hands have shifted back together somehow without him knowing. Neither of them pull away this time. 

“Yeah well, I’m alive now so-” Eddie can’t finish, he can’t. But Richie just nods, and it makes something in Eddie’s stomach do a somersault. Richie’s hand shifts slightly under his, until his is lying palm up, allowing their fingers to twine together. Eddie doesn’t think either of them is breathing anymore.

They sit in companionable silence for several minutes, and it’s nice, for the moment, knowing neither of them has to say anything to know that- they’re  _ okay _ . They’re going to stay okay. But Richie, being Richie, meaning he can’t sit in silence with nothing to distract him for long, keeps making pointed looks in the darkened T.V’s direction. 

“You want to keep watching Dora don’t you?” Eddie asks him, lifting up the remote with a raised eyebrow and the very hint of a smile playing on his lips.    
  


“Listen the nurses won’t give me my phone back, I need to be stimulated,” Richie protests, but Eddie is already flicking the T.V back on, and settling comfortably back in his chair. So they watch Dora, and they don’t let their fingers fall apart.

**~~~**

It’s Richie’s last day in the hospital, he’s finally had his skin graft surgery, and Eddie has no idea what he’s going to do when all the Losers leave. He knows Bill has been fighting off calls from his producer, and less so from his wife. He knows that Ben and Bev have become increasingly more obvious in the way they hover around each other. They’ll probably be off on some well-deserved Honeymoon in the Galapagos as soon as Richie is standing. Mike won’t stop showing all of them pictures he’s pinned on Pinterest of  _ Great American Road Trips _ , and  _ 100 Places You Have To Visit Before You Die _ . Not that any of the Loser’s complain about it, but Eddie’s not really sure the world's largest wall of chewed gum is something  _ anyone  _ should ever want to visit.

Richie, well- Richie is a famous comedian. With Netflix specials, and tours, and a big asshole-ish house ten seconds from the beach. It’s not like he’s going to spend a few extra days in the worst place on earth just to chum around with Eddie. It’s not his problem Eddie is terrified of going back home. 

For the moment, however, they’re all together, crowded into Richie’s hospital room, making the best of the shitty chairs and headache-inducing lighting. 

“God, ya know the thing I’ve missed most in this sanitized nightmare building? Actual fucking clothes man. I know I have a great ass, but it’ll be nice to not have it hanging out of the back of this nightgown 24/7,” Richie grouses, and Mike, who’s seated across the room next to Bill lets out a startlingly loud laugh.

“It was the great ass part wasn’t it?” Richie asks deadpan, and Mike shrugs his shoulders but it’s obvious by the smirk playing on his lips that it definitely was. 

“If your mom were here Eddie, she’d defend the greatness of my ass,” Richie says, turning his attention to Eddie, who is trying, unsuccessfully, to finish the last chapter of his book. 

“Jesus dude, she’s  _ dead _ ,” Eddie groans, finally giving up and shutting the book with a snap.

“And my dick mourns her every day,” Richie says, placing his free hand over his heart. Eddie softly hits him with his book.

“ _ Boo _ ,” Bev calls from where she and Ben are curled on the second empty hospital bed. 

“Wow- the lack of support I have here is astounding, Bill, Ben? Help a guy out here.”

“No c-comment,” Bill says without looking up from the notes he and Mike are pouring over for his latest book. Of all the places to think creatively, Eddie can not understand how the man already has a full story skeleton and 20 pages of his new draft. 

“I think you have a fine ass Rich,” Ben says with a smile, and Bev boos again.

“Oh- a fine ass, I appreciate it Haystack,” Richie snarks, and Ben gives him a cheeky salute. 

“What are you guys even still doing here? I’m fine, I no longer have a large divot in my arm! You should all be out drinking in support of my amazing recovery,” Richie says, as he slides back down into his pillows, waving his good arm to the door as if allowing them to leave.

“Well, we still haven't discussed when we’ll all be meeting up again,” Ben says, and the rest of the group looks to him questioningly.

“I mean- I was thinking I would host the next reunion in a couple of months. I have a beach house in Oregon that’ll fit everybody, but we could switch it up every time ya know?”

“Aw haystack, I forgive you for the subpar ass compliment,” Richie coos, and Ben rolls his eyes as Bev laughs into his chest.

“A beach house sounds great,” Mike says and Eddie almost laughs at how wistful he looks as he says it. 

“So it’s settled then, Ben and I’ll host first, and then what about you Richie? You’ve got a spacious L.A house don’t you?” Bev asks turning to look at Richie.

“Sure, what the hell- but Eddie isn’t allowed to deep clean anything while he’s there,” Richie says shrugging his left shoulder, and throwing a pointed look in Eddie’s direction.

“Well maybe if your hygiene has changed in the last 27 years that won’t be a problem jackass,” Eddie mutters, and the rest of the Losers laugh. 

Eddie is really going to fucking miss them.

_ But you’ll  _ _ get _ _ to miss them this time. You get to remember.  _

**~~~**

The rest of the Losers head back to the Inn when visiting hours end, and Eddie stays because the nurses have given up on him at this point. It’s only a night more, and Eddie’s not wasting the time he has left with Richie. 

They’re watching some sitcom on Nick at night, and Eddie is half asleep when Richie nudges his arm slightly.

“So- you’re headed back home tomorrow right?” Richie asks, voice quiet and tentative. 

“Yeah, I mean- as soon as you’re discharged I guess,” Eddie yawns, and Richie nods his head eyes glued to the T.V.

“I was just thinking- I’ve been needing a vacation from this vacation, and I was considering maybe coming to New York for a bit,” Richie says a little too casually for it to seem normal.

“Richie that’s- I mean- you still need like a month of physical therapy, any New York clinic will be super expensive,” Eddie protests, but he doesn’t know why when he can feel relief flooding his system like morphine.

“Eddie bud- I live in L.A. I also happen to have a net worth of 2 million dollars, money is not an issue,” Richie says smirking. 

“But- wait, how the fuck do you have a net worth of 2 million? Your jokes are shit,” Eddie balks.  _ Richie-Trashmouth-Tozier  _ with a net worth of 2 million dollars is an insane concept to consider.

“Tell that to my two Netflix specials, some people do in fact find me funny Eddie-spaghetti,” Richie grins, and Eddie just scoffs.

“That’s bullshit, your agent has to be a miracle worker.”

“I mean,  _ yeah _ , but I have some talent you know,” Richie argues, and Eddie just rolls his eyes.

Eddie gets up because he can’t sit and have this conversation. “Yeah  _ sure _ , but that still doesn’t mean you should come to New York.”

“What- ‘fraid I’m gonna ruin the reunion between you Mrs. Kaspbrak?” Richie asks, a salacious grin slipping onto his face and Eddie flips him off.

“Richie-”

“I know I’m irresistible, but I’m sure she only has eyes for you,” Richie continues, because like Eddie knows and will always know, he will never ever learn when to shut up.

“Rich-”

“Besides she’s not even my type-”

“Richie I’m getting a divorce,” Eddie snaps, and Richie’s mouth drops open like he’s just been caught in the deadlights again. 

_ Bad comparison. Bad comparison _ .

Eddie had not planned on saying that. He hadn’t even considered divorce an option until this very moment. It was almost like the thought had been pushed into his head. He can’t find a fault in the logic of it though.

“Oh,” Richie says, with no witty comeback, or ill-timed joke. He just looks at Eddie, dumbfounded. 

“I just- need to tie up some loose ends. I’ve still got a job which, thank god, I’ve saved all my vacation days or else I’d’ve been fired from it already. And Myra won’t- it’ll take me a while to settle things is all I’m saying,” Eddie splutters, realizing he has in fact been thinking about this a lot actually. Richie looks at him, then at the T.V, then down at his thin hospital comforter, until finally, he says, too quickly for Eddie process all at once-

“So- I’ll come for moral support. I can only assume divorce proceedings will be a pain in the ass, and maybe I can, I don’t know- lighten the load by taking you around the town. All expenses paid by me of course.”

Eddie stares, eyes wide. “ _ What? _ ”

“I’ll pay for your vacation in New York,” Richie says as if he doesn’t even know what’s coming out of his mouth.

“You know I  _ live _ in New York right? It’s not a vacation for me- The Statue Of Liberty isn’t exactly an attraction anymore,” Eddie says bewildered, but Richie just shakes his head wildly as if he’s just now getting into this idea of his.

“You assume too little of me spaghetti, you think I’d  _ just _ take you to the Statue of Liberty? No, I’d fly you in a helicopter to the top of the torch,” Richie says, gesticulating far too much for a man who’s just been through surgery. 

Eddie rolls his eyes and makes a move to push Richie back onto the bed so he doesn’t hurt himself any more than he’s already been. “My mistake, what would be our second outing then? We bungee jump off the side of the Empire State Building?” 

“You think I’m gonna spoil anymore? You’ll just have to wait and see,” Richie says mock aghast, swatting at Eddie’s hands as he settles back onto the bed. 

“Jesus okay-  _ fine _ , you can come,” Eddie sighs dejectedly like he isn’t over the fucking moon with the idea of New York  _ and  _ Richie. It’s amazing he’s not grinning like a loon.

“Not to- damage my chances here, but- and I’m pretty sure about this, I do believe I’m a grown man, who could go to New York if he so chooses without a one Edward J. Kaspbrak’s permission,” Richie says, glancing over at him from the corner of his eye, and Eddie throws him the most deadpan of looks.

“ _ Yeah _ , I’d like to see you try.”

**~~~**

“So you’re both headed to New York?” Ben asks them the next morning, as Eddie begrudgingly moves his and Richie’s bags into the trunk of his rental car. Not that he’d have let Richie move his bags, but it’s still a pain.

“Yep, me and spaghetti are headed to the Big Apple. We’re going to see the sights, and make it big on Broadway,” Richie jokes, slinging an arm around Ben’s broad shoulders. Eddie stops trying to shove his carry on into the already tight trunk to throw a dark look in Richie’s direction.

“I’m filing for divorce, and we are going nowhere near Broadway- the amount of times you sang  _ Good Morning Baltimore _ to me as kids has scarred me for life,” Eddie snaps, giving up on the minuscule spot he’d picked to place his last bag, and picking another equally small space.

“What’ll you do after?” Ben asks, allowing Richie to cling to him like an oversized Kola, while also looking incredibly sympathetic to the destruction of Eddie’s marriage life. Eddie just shrugs and gives one last push, and his bag slides in. He slams the trunk and turns back around.

“We’re going with the flow Haystack, Ed’s here will be a free man in a matter of weeks, he could do anything!” Richie says, sliding back away from Ben, patting his shoulder before sidling over to Eddie’s side.

“Hey- are you guys leaving already?” Mike calls, the front door of the Inn opening to allow Mike, Bev, and Bill to pour out onto the steps. 

“It’s a seven-hour drive and we can make it to New York by 5 O’clock if we don’t stop,  _ and _ if we leave now,” Eddie says, and Richie nudges his shoulder with a wide grin.

“Eddie printed out an itinerary and everything.”

“I didn’t print it out- it’s on your phone,” Eddie says, trying to hold back the red flush that’s creeping up his neck.

“You still haven't bought a new phone for yourself?” Richie asks as if he isn’t aware of the fact Eddie has spent the last week and a half living and breathing, in shitty hospital air.   
  


“Does it look like there’s a T-Mobile Store in Derry?” 

“You buy fucking  _ Androids? _ ”   
  


“Oh I’m sorry for the fact I don’t enjoy a fucking multinational conglomerate cheating me of my money by having their shitty phones break after two years,” Eddie hisses, and Richie’s wide fucking mouth opens to respond when there’s a cough in front of them.

“A-are you sure you want t-to go to New York t-together?” Bill asks suddenly, and both Eddie and Richie turn to look at him in surprise. The rest of the Losers are looking at them with mixed expressions of bewilderment and fondness. Eddie needs to shut that down right now.

“We don’t have time for this- just- hug us and we’ll go,” Eddie says, making a rolling motion with his hands, and Richie laughs before grabbing his shoulder and dragging him closer to the rest of the Losers.

“They aren’t an affection conveyor belt Eds, we’re obviously doing a gross group hug.”

“Here, Here!” Bev cheers as she grabs Ben and Mike around the necks to pull them down for the hug. 

As far as hugs go in Eddie’s life, it’s pretty fucking amazing. It’s better than the last time they parted ways. 13 and still so unsure of everything, with the underlying knowledge something horrible would be drawing them back together again. But IT’s dead, and they have plans for a beach house in December. Some of them still might be unsure, but there are efforts being made to correct.

They hold on a little bit longer than maybe necessary, and Eddie knows, as he’s sure every Loser knows, they do it for the gaping hole in their group hug. Where an older, bespectacled, curly-haired head should be. They all grip each other just a little bit tighter.

**~~~**

They are four hours and fifteen minutes into the worst/best car ride Eddie has ever had the misfortune of taking when Richie’s phone starts blaring the most annoying of default ringtones.

“Shit-  _ shit- fuck _ ,” Richie mutters, fumbling one-handed with his phone, as it continues ringing at an insane volume.

“What?  _ What? _ ” Eddie asks panicked until Richie shoves his ringing phone in Eddie’s face, too close for him to read the caller I.D.

“Would you just-” Eddie grabs the phone from his hand, tries not to panic at the fact he’s  _ driving _ and looks down to see the name  _ Sheila _ with three terrified looking emoji faces after. Eddie looks up at Richie, who is looking at him with the most panicked look since probably Bowers at the Library. Which can not be good.

“Who’s  _ Sheila? _ ” Eddie’s voice comes out harsher than he’d meant it, almost like an accusation, and Richie shoots him a confused look. 

  
  
“She’s my agent.”

_ Agent. Right. Not an ex-girlfriend. Or a girlfriend in general. Cool. _

“ _ Oh- _ and you’re terrified of her because-” Eddie asks, watching as the incoming call stops, and then immediately picks up again. Richie shifts in his seat, eyes pointedly drawn forward.

“I mean, it may be because I’ve been in the hospital for a week and a half, I’ve missed several shows in Reno, and I think I was supposed to be on Jimmy Fallon tonight- but I’m not entirely sure if that fell through- anyway, I haven't actually had a chance to update her on my whereabouts,” Richie says finally, as they come to a halt in front of stoplight. Eddie gives him a flat look.   
  


“I would  _ hate  _ to employ you.”

“Well I’d hate to employ  _ you _ ,” Richie shoots back, his voice rising to a nasally high, which Eddie assumes is supposed to be an impression of him. It’s truly and utterly amazing Eddie is attracted to this man. 

“Should I- answer it for you?” Eddie asks, swiveling his gaze between the road, and the phone.   
  


“You’d do that?” Richie asks incredulously as if Eddie has just agreed to pick up the phone with a call from a mass murderer.   
  


“She’s  _ just  _ your agent Rich.”    
  


“Okay- well tell her I’ve been in extreme pain and out of my head on meds- and it all just slipped my mind,” Richie babbles, sliding lower into his seat and Eddie really, truly does try to not roll his eyes. Try is the imperative word.   
  


“That’s the truth though, dumbass.”   
  
“Did I say lie to her?” Richie asks belligerently, and Eddie shoots a glare in his direction before pressing the _pick up_ button.

“Hel-”   
  


“Richard  _ Fucking  _ Tozier, if you are not back in L.A in the next twenty-four hours, I have a noose with your name on it! Do you hear me, you overgrown giraffe!  _ Twenty-Four hours! _ ” Eddie has to pull the phone away from his head before the entire phrase is out, and next to him Richie’s eyes widen in panic. 

Eddie returns the phone back to his ear and replies as quickly as he can. “I’ll uh- pass the message along.”   
  


There is a groan on the other end, and possibly what could be the sound of a forehead being thunked on top of a desk. “ _ You’re not even _ \- I’m going to murder him, I swear to-  _ Fuck _ , who are you?”   
  


“I’m Edward Kaspbrak, I’m an old friend of Richie’s- Listen I’m sorry for the inconvenience, but he recently got into an accident, and he’s fine now, but he’s been hospitalized for the past week and a half,” Eddie says, and he realizes he’s put on his soothing customer service voice he only uses with the toughest of clients. It’s amazing Richie of all people has been able to survive someone with this much emotional drive.

_ Yeah, well he’s had practice Mr. I can talk at 50 miles per minute. _

“And he couldn’t just- okay, okay  _ fucking fine _ \- but could you please tell him if he leaves without a word to me again, I will end his career so thoroughly he won’t even be able to do stand up on street corners,” Sheila’s voice comes out in a sigh, heavier then Eddie thinks he could ever achieve.

“I’ll let him know.”  
  
“And tell him to call me, _okay_? Fucking moron,” Sheila’s voice finally drops to an octave that doesn’t hurt Eddie’s ears, as she says this and then the line is dead. Eddie clicks the phone off and tosses it to Richie who catches it in surprise.

“So- any threat of disembowelment?” Richie asks tentatively, gripping his phone to his chest like a security blanket.

“She wants you to call her dude- you were in the  _ hospital _ ,” Eddie says, sending a hard look in Richie’s direction. 

“ _ Oh _ .”

“She also said if you weren’t back in L.A in twenty-four hours she’d hang you,” Eddie concedes after a moment, and Richie tilts his head back and laughs.

“ _ There’s _ the Sheila I know and love.”

**~~~**

Eddie has to spend an hour talking Richie down from booking them rooms at the Four Seasons. It takes him another for Richie to give up on the Plaza hotel.

“The Afinnia Shelburne has the exact same amount of stars on Tripadvisor as the Plaza does,  _ with  _ as many reviews, and it’s 600 dollars less,” Eddie snaps, honking at the jackass who just cut him off. They are back in New York,  _ finally _ , but  _ Fuck _ , Eddie had not missed the traffic.

“But we can’t brag about staying there like we could with the Plaza. Eloise lived there, Kevin Mcallister stayed there!” Richie says, waving his phone with his online reservation pulled up. Eddie does not smack it out of his hand, despite his growing blood pressure levels.

“It’s $750 a night, we’re  _ not  _ staying at the Plaza hotel!” 

“ _ I’m _ paying for it!” Richie yells, unbelieving.

“Yes, and I feel terrible for your accountant!”   
  


Richie groans, and runs a hand over his face and through his hair. “ _ Fine _ \- fine, we’ll stay at the fucking Afleck Sorbonne.”

“It’s called the Affinia Shelburne, would you just book it already so I don’t have to  _ drive  _ anymore!”

Richie books it, after a very heated conversation with a concierge about calling ahead a week before a stay, followed by some unsubtle but successful bribery. It takes Eddie less than fifteen minutes to reach the hotel, screeching to a stop in front of the doors like, as Richie would put it, _ a madman _ . 

The bellhop grabs their bags, and the valet takes their car to park and Eddie doesn’t even try to deal with check-in, just goes to sit on one of the lounge chairs in the lobby, to think happy thoughts about not being inside a car anymore. 

Richie doesn’t take long though, and he’s tossing Eddie his own key card before even ten minutes has passed. “I got us adjoined rooms, thought you’d want the extra space.” 

‘How much-?”

‘Doesn’t matter- Come on, I want to shower and then take a nap in a place that is neither a hospital or a car,” Richie says waving off Eddie’s concern, and then he’s ambling his way to the elevators and out of sight. Eddie stands with a groan and follows.

Eddie’s hotel room alone is gigantic. It’s bigger than any apartment he’d had when living in the city after college. Bigger than the place he and Myra has shared before he’d gotten promoted that first time at work. There’s a spacious balcony, a decently sized kitchenette, and the bed is big enough Eddie is sure it could have fit all the Loser’s and then some.

After about five minutes of wandering around checking to make sure housekeeping had definitely left nothing, a knock on the room’s joint door startles him. He rushes to open it, and Richie is standing on the other side leaning casually on the doorframe.

“Does your room also have a whole house in it?” Richie asks tipping forward, a hand gripping the doorframe to keep him steady. Eddie takes a step back and shows him the  _ actual _ living room within, and Richie whistles.

“Okay- not bad.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be taking a shower?” Eddie asks, and Richie just shrugs, stepping into Eddie’s room without asking. 

He flops down onto the couch facing the window with a sigh. “I’m thinking room service, you want room service?”

“I have to call my wife,” Eddie says with a sigh, running a hand through his hair.

Richie stands up like he’s been shocked by a live wire, and Eddie startles. “Right yeah- I’ll just, get you a hamburger then.”

“Rich-?” Eddie tries, but he’s already made a beeline for the door, leaving just as quickly as he’d come. Eddie shakes his head, feeling a nervous twist in his stomach as he looks at the closed door between them.

He goes to call Myra.

He’d had to talk to her every day since she’d found the hospital’s number. He’d explained that it was a friend of the family who had become ill, and that was why he’d up and left. She’d seemed fine enough with that lie, but of course, a daily check up was all she could do for her Eddie-Bear, stuck in a dreary Maine hospital.

It was always something inane she needed to tell him about, something that three weeks ago would have seemed like the most god damn important thing in the world to Eddie. But now- now all he could think of when Myra complained about the way the rose bushes in the backyard were cut or how the paint on their front porch was beginning to chip, was how much he didn’t care. That sounded harsh even in Eddie’s mind, but it seemed her and Eddie’s lives had become a messy tangle of petty concern after petty concern, all to do with how the world looked at them.

He supposed if there were one thing that tied them together it was their fear of judgment from strangers prying eyes. 

“Hello?” Myra’s voice crackled to life over the hotel phone, whispery and ghost like, and just unreal enough for Eddie to feel the distance between them. It helped settle his nerves.

“Myra, it’s Eddie.”

“Oh  _ thank God _ , I was worried when I couldn’t check-in today,” her voice took on a simpering tone, and Eddie’s grip on the phone tightened.

“Well I’m fine, listen, Marty, I’ll be back in a half an hour, we need to talk about som-”

“I’m having the book club over tonight Eddie-Bear, didn’t I tell you?” Myra’s voice cuts him off, sweet and innocent, but just harsh enough to sound as flimsy as cardboard. Eddie felt he was grinding his teeth loud enough for it to be heard over the phone. 

“Myra, just- tell them you’ll have to cancel.”

“I absolutely will not, I’ve ordered in catering for it, and after the disaster of Susanna’s baby shower, I’d be the laughingstock of the neighborhood if I canceled!” Myra wailed, actually wailed and Eddie couldn’t help but think of the clown, with his mother’s voice and his mother’s face using that same fucking tone.

“Myra  _ please _ ,” Eddie implored, like he was thirteen again, asking his mother for some trace of freedom that no child should ever have to ask of a parent.

“I have to go now Eddie-Bear, you’ll be home by six won’t you?” Myra cut him off again as if she couldn’t hear him- and maybe she couldn’t, maybe he’d become the ghostly whisper on the phone line.   
  


“Yes but-” the line was dead. After a moment, Eddie carefully placed the landline back into its cradle. 

Then he picked it back up, and slammed it into the cradle with enough force the plastic bent and cracked.

Eddie went to the adjoined door and opened it without knocking. Richie was splayed out on the couch, remote in hand, face disinterested but familiar and grounding to Eddie. His eyes immediately caught onto Eddie as the door swung open, his mouth about to form into a smile before he saw Eddie’s face.

Eddie just stood there, feeling like he had that first night in the hospital he’d been found out by his wife. Alone and scared, and the only one with the answers was Richie.

“I’ll be back in two hours, and tell housecleaning I’ll need a new phone,” Eddie’s voice comes out, and it doesn’t even feel like his voice, stiff and robotic like an automated message. 

“Eds wait-” Eddie closes the door, and heads to collect his car.

**~~~**

Eddie had tried earlier in the car to explain to Richie why he wanted the divorce. He hadn’t wanted him to assume that- that Eddie had been completely miserable the entire time, he wasn’t that stupid or weak to not fight back sooner.  _ Yes _ , Myra is toxic, he knows that, deep down. But she isn’t a carbon copy of his mother. She has her own reasons for coddling, and worrying, and obsessing. He never loved her, not in the way he promised her he would. But he did like her to a degree, he couldn’t not after so long. At least a little bit. They had movie nights every first Friday of the month, and Myra never complained about the cheesy hallmark movies he picked, and he never complained about the documentaries she’d choose. They had dinners, and they cooked together, the things they liked. They could make each other laugh, sometimes. In the moments where things weren’t so tense, because Myra didn’t understand why he had to work so late, or why he needed his own car when she didn’t even work. 

It felt stupid to tell that all to Richie though. Richie who could only see the surface image. The constant phone calls. The pestering of safety, and health, and  _ are you feeling okay Eddie, you’re looking a little under the weather, you should stay home and let me take care of you _ . It’s not Richie’s fault either, because Eddie knows that on the surface, in the important aspects she  _ is  _ his mother. And maybe it is all just another aspect of how fucked up this relationship really is. 

The drive back to his home is the most terrifying 34 minutes of his life since staring down an interstellar monster. He turns the radio on, and then immediately off. He drums his fingers against the steering wheel, steady, unlike his racing heartbeat. 

He knows where Myra will be, sitting with the rest of her book club, but with her back straight and eyes focused out the window. He knows why she couldn't call it off, why she refused to uninvite their guests over. It’s a lot harder to talk about personal matters with five other middle-age woman peering over their shoulders. He hates her just a bit more for it.

Their neighborhood is the most picturesque of picturesque. They had searched for weeks to find the perfect place. To find the  _ right  _ kind of place to live. Nice people, nice lawns, a good school system they both knew would never be in use by them. But as Eddie drives further and further into the maze of styled brick and painted window boxes, all he can think of is how much he despises all of it. 

He doesn’t park the rental in the driveway. He parks it on the curb and he just sits for a second. He breathes. He breathes like he’d seen Richie do in Neibolt. All the air out, then four seconds in. Hold for seven. Exhale for eight. He glances out of the tinted windows of the car as he does it. He can see her silhouette vaguely through the sheer curtains. Her book club hasn’t left yet. He watches the shapes beyond the door of his house of six years. Not a home though. Never home to him. Just a place where he slept, and ate, and lied. Four seconds in. Eight seconds out. Hold for seven. 

Eddie pushes open the car door and gets out. He can’t feel his legs, thinks they’re probably moving because he’s getting closer to the front door. He can hear the dry, sun-bleached grass crinkling beneath his feet, and thinks oddly, he should get someone to water his lawn. 

_ Except it won’t be your lawn anymore Eds. _

Eddie pauses. He’s there, right on the porch, hand shaking just inches from the door handle, and he pauses. This is crazy isn’t it? What he’s doing? Leaving Myra. Most likely leaving New York. When he has a house, a mortgage, a car that still needs detailed, a job with good benefits. 

_ And Richie’s still the better option dipshit.  _

He turns the handle and steps into the entryway. It’s spotless, and beige and boring. Where there should be pictures of a happy marriage, there are shitty, expensive as fuck modernist paintings. There’s a coat rack and a shoe carousel, and it looks like the set of a movie. Picture perfect, with not an ounce of self involved.

Eddie heads for the living room.

As soon as he takes a step into the room, the woman of the Roslyn wine and dine book club are turning to him with identical looks of feigned interest. It’s a chorus of  _ “Hi Eddie,”  _ and  _ “How are you?” _

“I’m sorry, I’m going to need you all to leave.” He doesn’t look at any of them beside Myra, who hasn’t turned away from her book yet. 

The woman all titter angrily around him and Myra sends him a hard glare, her blond bob sharp and menacing in the low light of the living room. Eddie doesn’t move, doesn’t shrink back from that gaze.

“I have to talk to my wife in private.”

“You can do that when they leave _ Eddie-Bear _ ,” Myra says, cheeks flashing a dangerous red. She’s embarrassed and angry, it’s written so clearly all over her face. The other woman begin to pick up their books and purses, eyeing them both like their wild animals.

“ _ Myra- _ ”   
  


“We’ll only be a bit more, surely whatever you have to say can wait just a bit-” Myra says, standing from her chair, and she’s using her height to her advantage now, towering over him and the rest of the woman in the room. It feels like her shadow is trying to consume the room, consume him. Shut him up, and turn him away. 

But Eddie has had enough with monsters in his lifetime.

“I’m filing for divorce.”

Eddie’s voice comes out steely, and the room goes utterly still, besides the flickering eyes of the Roslyn wine and dine book club. Myra’s face pinches, her eyes grow wide and glassy.

“I’ve booked a hotel room in the city. Enjoy your book club ladies,” and then Eddie is walking back out of the room, through the inhumanly perfect entryway, and out the door of his house.

**~~~**

“My client is trying for a contested divorce- it should be noted that Ms. Torrance is currently unemployed, and has been for nearly ten years now. She  _ will _ be filing for spousal support.” It’s 9 a.m on Monday morning. There are four people, including Eddie, sitting around a very awkwardly lengthy table, with a box of untouched donuts. Eddie wants to go back to sleep.

“I would like to remind you off the hefty sum your client will already receive at the termination of this marriage. My client Mr. Kaspbrak did not have Ms. Torrance sign a prenuptial agreement. Spousal support seems unnecessary,” Austin Grey says, shuffling his many, many papers around like the complete jackass he is. 

Eddie doesn’t like his lawyer, which in any scenario isn’t great news. But Austin is, for lack of a better word, a douchebag. 

“And I would like to remind you Mr. Grey that my client and her husband live in a very expensive part of Long Island. No matter how hefty a sum you say she receives, she will not be able to survive for more than a year on the money provided,” Eddie unfortunately,  _ likes _ Myra’s lawyer. She seems genuine, not like the greasy fucking frat boy Austin is. 

“The house market is doing just fine, I’m sure Ms. Torrance could sell her-  _ very nice  _ accommodations in Long Island for a cheaper apartment somewhere else. I’m afraid what your client has asked for is simply too much, all Mr. Kaspbrak would be left with is his 401k,” Austin smiles sleazily, like there in on a big joke, like what Myra is asking for is really all that crazy. Myra’s lawyer sends an icy look in both their directions and Eddie does not blame her.

“He also has the ability to grow his money again- my client does not have a means of support.”

“Listen, we’ll be going in circles all morning- we’ve both made offers. Why don't we allow for a cool-down period for our individual clients to think things over?” Austin says, leaning back in his seat with the air of a man who has no cares in the world because he’s a white, straight, cis man.

_ Fuck _ , Eddie really hates him.

“That’s fine Mr. Grey, but I will have a judge sign off on spousal support.” Myra’s lawyer says (Eddie should really learn her name), snapping her folders into place and standing tall and elegant like she’s just stepped out of a courtroom of a successful murder trial.

Myra hasn’t looked at Eddie since the meeting began, and as she stands to leave, she continues to keep her gaze averted. It’s almost worse than if she’d been crying the entire time.

**~~~**

Eddie gets back to the hotel at 10 a.m, he collapses into his bed fully dressed and falls asleep until noon when he is awoken by a loud rapping at his door. Bleary-eyed, and still somehow exhausted Eddie shuffles through two rooms to open the door, not expecting to find Richie on the other side.

“Wowza- when did you get hit by a bus?” Richie asks, and Eddie flips him off on instinct. 

“Did you need something Richie?” 

“Yeah, I’m taking you out to lunch,” Richie smiles, holding out his arm to indicate the hallway behind him. Eddie peers up at him for a moment, sees Richie’s incredibly ernest expression, and then sighs running a hand through his hair.

“Just- give me ten minutes to fix my hair.” 

Richie had apparently already called them a cab, so after Eddie had meticulously combed his hair back into a decent looking formation, they were immediately whisked away from the hotel. Richie would not tell him where they were going, despite how many times Eddie threatened to get out of the cab. Richie just tells him to stop being impatient.

They don’t have long to bicker though before they’re pulling up in front of an old brownstone building with the words Del Posto in fine white on a black sign. Richie slides out, handing the cab driver a wad of cash before offering his hand to Eddie to help him out. Eddie doesn’t even consider how that would look to someone on the outside until Richie continues to hold his hand as he leads him inside the building. He tries not flush too bright as they make their way to the hostess stand.

Richie drops their linked fingers as he says “Special last minute reservation for Richard Tozier.”

The finely dressed woman behind the stand smiles wide at them, manicured finger-clicking over her computer system to check the reservation. 

“Alright, you’re private table is right upstairs Mr. Tozier,” she says smiling again while grabbing two menus behind her work station. As she leads them both up the stairs, Eddie is taken aback by how elegant  _ everything  _ looks. He almost wishes Ben could see the interesting design of the building. 

They are seated in a very quiet alcove on the second floor. There are people around them but no one close enough to hear. Their hostess says their waiter will be with them in just a moment, and then she’s gone and Richie and Eddie are alone. In an Italian restaurant. After Eddie’s first divorce negotiation. He tries not to think too hard about it all as he checks the silverware for spots. 

Richie watches him quietly for a moment, before grabbing his soup spoon and tapping the side of his wine glass loudly.

“Garcon, your finest wine please!” Richie calls, waving at the bewildered waiter across the room. Several diners turn to look at their table in surprise, and instead of feeling mortified Eddie has to hold back from laughing out loud.

“Can you go one second without acting like a complete moron?”

“If acting like a complete moron is code for being incredibly suave, then no, I can not,” Richie says, leaning over the table with a grin. Eddie scoffs and then picks up the menu to hide the blush he knows is creeping up his neck. None of the dishes have prices, which can not mean good things for Richie’s bank account.

“How much does this place even cost?”

“No idea, but hey here’s the wine,” Richie says, gesturing to the waiter carrying over a shiny bottle of red.

Once the wine is poured, Eddie doesn’t even have to remind himself not to overthink. It’s easy to forget Austin Grey and Myra, and the fact he’d probably be locked up in legalities for another month. Richie just kept refilling his glass, and they’d continue to laugh about some dumb joke Richie was practicing. They ordered their food already tipsy, and Richie kept giggling as Eddie tripped over the complicated Italian dish names. He didn’t do any better though, and Eddie nearly snorted out wine as Richie cursed his way through a basic pasta dish. 

When their food finally arrives the bottle of wine is empty, and a second has been opened and half emptied. Their waiter gives them a pained look when the booth ooh and aw over the nicely displayed dishes. 

Eddie finishes his entire meal in mere minutes, and he sits back with a contented sigh. “I can’t remember the last time I had this many carbs.” 

“That is-  _ the saddest  _ thing I’ve ever heard. You ordered a miniscule bowl of pasta salad dude,” Richie says pointing vaguely at the cleaned plate with his fork. 

“I’ve been on the Paleo diet for five years, I haven't had anything this good in forever,” Eddie sighs, looking down at his plate feeling slightly disappointed by the fact it was still empty.

“Well here, have some more- God knows I don’t need the extra weight,” Richie says, pushing his half-filled bowl of cheesy fettuccine over to Eddie. He looks at it quietly for a moment, feelings of warmth building his chest, making his inebriated body feel like it was floating. 

“Thanks,” is all Eddie says, and Richie shrugs, taking a deep swig of his wine, and Eddie purposely takes a large bite as he watches Richie’s lips stain red. 

**~~~**

A cycle forms in Eddie’s life, filled with a mixture of extreme highs and lows. Austin keeps insisting he needs to fight for his money, that he shouldn’t just give up because Myra is playing the sob story side. Myra’s lawyer continues to be good at her job. Richie keeps coming up with one outing after the next. Eddie keeps telling himself they’re not dates. Richie is his best friend and he’s just being  _ nice _ . It’s been a month and it’s getting harder to draw that line.

It might help if Richie would stay in his own hotel room, and not in Eddie’s. On Eddie’s bed,  _ next _ to Eddie, while watching Chopped like their married or something. It might help just a bit.

“You do know you have T.V in your room too right?” Eddie asks, feeling the way Richie’s shoulder bumps against his for the fifteenth time that night.

“Yeah, but I would be missing your lovely commentary. How would I know if Celery is a death sentence in that Tilapia dish?” 

“I didn’t say- with her skill set I knew she wouldn’t be able to pull it off well,” Eddie mutters, and Richie laughs softly before turning back to the T.V. Eddie’s problem has still not been solved. 

He tries to think of something else to say, something to send Richie back to his room. But the bed is comfortable, and Richie is warm, and maybe it’s because that day had been a particularly grueling back in forth in his meeting with Myra and the lawyers, or Eddie is just flat out tired, but he lets himself be weak. Eddie lets himself close his eyes, and drift to sleep.

It doesn’t feel like more than a second before Eddie’s obnoxiously loud alarm wakes him. The room is dark, the curtains drawn closed tight, and Eddie has to wait a second to let his heartbeat slow down to a more normal rate. And then something beside him is moving and his it’s skyrocketing again as he makes a wrong move tumbling off the bed. 

“ _ Fuck _ .” 

“Eddie? You good dude?” Richie’s sleep soaked voice drifts from the bed, and as it reaches Eddie’s ears, he freezes.

Several things occur to him at once. One, Richie Tozier had been away from L.A for an entire month. He’d stayed away from his gigantic house, and career to be by Eddie’s side. For an entire month. Two, the T.V had been on last night, and if Richie was still in bed, he’d made the very conscious decision to turn off the T.V and stay in Eddie’s  _ room _ , in Eddie’s  _ bed _ . Three, an Italian restaurant was  _ definitely  _ a date. 

“ _ Eddie? _ ” Richie’s head pops up over the side of the bed this time, his hair a mess, his glasses of, revealing that his eyes were in fact proportional to the rest of his face.   
  


“Yep, fine- I’m fine- I’ve got to- the meeting,” Eddie stumbles over his words, untangling his limbs from the sheets he’d dragged down with him. He stands quickly enough his head swims, and seeing no other obvious forms of escape, makes a beeline for the bathroom. 

He leans against the sink heavily, eyes glued to the faucet, avoiding his own startled gaze in the mirror.

_ How hadn’t he seen? _

Richie Tozier, self-proclaimed ladies man, who bragged about the hotties he’d dated in all of his comedy shows, who wouldn’t shut up about fucking people moms, who Eddie had been in love with since they were twelve. There was no way he could have missed it. He’d looked for it when they were kids. Hadn’t he? Any slightly lingering gaze, an arm around his shoulder squeezing just a little too tight, he’d been hyper-aware of it all.

_ Fear is always a great excuse huh? _

Eddie shouldn’t be panicking. He shouldn’t be cowering in the bathroom, palms slick with sweat, and heart stuttering out a mad beat. If Richie Tozier loves him back then he should be unlocking the fucking bathroom door, and telling him. He should be yelling it from the balcony. It would be so easy too, to tell Richie, who was probably still loose with sleep, wondering what the fuck had just happened. 

_ But fear is always a great excuse. _

So Eddie takes a shower, and he washes his hair with shampoo twice in a row instead of conditioner because he’s not paying attention. He dries off, scrubbing at his skin with a rough hotel towel until it hurts, and then when he finally does open the door, steam rolls out like he’s been in a sauna.

Richie is gone. 

Eddie gets dressed, and it’s like he’s not really aware of what he’s doing, until he’s fully clothed standing in his hotel’s living room and staring at the adjoined door. 

_ What are you looking for Eddie? _

Eddie takes the stairs down to the lobby. He needs the time to think. 

_ Overthinking always gets you in fucking trouble. _

He reaches the lobby in a fugue state, and he’s pretty sure the receptionist said good morning, and he’s being rude, but what the fuck is new. 

“Eddie!” On instinct Eddie stops and turns to follow the voice, his stomach flips when he catches sight of Richie. Glasses on, hair wet, and dressed in a t-shirt and sweats. He looks like a hot mess, and Eddie just wants to kiss him.

“Hey, thought I almost missed you- we’re still on for lunch, right?” Richie asks with a hesitant smile, his eyes shifting nervously over Eddie’s face. Eddie feels like his chest is being held in a steel grip.

_ Yes. Yes. Say Yes. _

“Yeah- as long as you're paying right,” Eddie smiles, and so does Richie, but Eddie wants to scream. 

_ Aren’t you sick of being a fucking coward? _

**~~~**

Eddie lasts four hours. He barely says a word, but it’s mostly just Austin and Myra pushing back and forth. It’s been the same day after day, over money that Eddie doesn’t give a shit about.

He lasts four hours.

“She can have the money,” Eddie says, and the table goes quiet. They’d just been having a discussion over how much money the house would be if sold, and if maybe Myra’s asked price should increase or not. Austin turns to him looking absolutely flabbergasted. Myra doesn’t look much better.

“Mr. Kasprak-” Austin tries, but Eddie cuts him off with an actual hand in his face, and looks Myra dead in the eyes. She’s only just been across the table from him.

“Myra you can take it- but I’m done with this- I’m not spending another fucking month fighting over something I don’t even care about. I’m not taking this to court to be purposefully miserable. So _ take my money, _ ” he ends it like a plea, and in a way, he supposes it is.

Myra’s eyes harden, her lips puckering in a way he knows means war. “But-”

“We’ll take the deal,” Myra’s lawyer, Stephanie, cuts in. 

“I will  _ not- _ ”

“There’s no point in dragging this out Ms. Torrance, he’s meeting your demands,” she says and she turns her gaze away from Myra, and begins picking up her notes, organizing them methodically as Austin and Myra continue to splutter helplessly. 

“I- but he can’t,” Myra flounders, her fingers tapping erratically on the tabletop. 

“I can Myra- now if you’ll excuse me, I’m late for lunch,” Eddie says, and he’s smiling, he hadn’t even realized it until now, and Stephanie gives him a little wave as he strides towards the office room doors.

“But Mr. Kasprak the papers-” Austin says, motioning towards the piles of documents still spread before him on the table.

“Send them to me- I’ll sign them on the plane to L.A tomorrow.” And then Eddie is out the door, and he finally has a plan.

**~~~**

Eddie can’t get to the hotel quick enough, he can practically feel himself vibrating as he throws his car keys to the valet and rushes through the lobby. He goes the stairs route again, knowing beyond a doubt he’ll be faster than the elevator.

He feels like a kid again tearing through the stairwell doors, and down the nicely carpeted and quiet halls. Or at least what it should have been like to be a kid. Filled with determination and hope so naive even the greatest of pessimists would stop to think twice.

He skips his door and goes straight for Richie’s, fist playing out a pattern that sounds like the greatest music Eddie’s ever heard. 

“Hey- I wasn’t expecting you back until-”

Eddie kisses him. He grabs the collar of Richie’s already stretched out t-shirt and kisses him. He’s not scared. Nervous as hell. But not scared.

Because Richie kisses back. 

Eddie isn’t sure how long he lets it go, he doesn’t want to talk about it, he just wants to be doing it, and by the way Richie is with one hand cradling the side of his face and the other gripping his hip, he’s pretty sure they’re fine for the moment.

But Eddie does have to pull away eventually, there are things that have to be said. There’s an audible sound of their lips coming apart, which normally would make Eddie shudder, but all he can notice is the absolutely baffled look on Richie’s face, how his cheeks are tinted pink, and his lips are slightly swollen now-

_ Focus _ .

“I’m gay. I’ve been in love with you since I was twelve, and I don’t think that ever went away. I also want to go to L.A with you.” Eddie has to say it all in one go, he’s not even sure all the words come out as separate phrases, but he does say it. It feels like less of a problem then he let himself believe.

_ He probably needed to be more open about his emotions on a regular basis.  _

Richie is still just looking at him, but he doesn’t look angry, just shocked, and Eddie squeezes his arm lightly. “Rich?”

“I love you too,” it comes out in a gasp, and Eddie gives him a crooked smile. A smirk almost.

“Yeah, I kinda figured.”

And suddenly it’s like a switch has been flipped, and they’re on even ground again. Teasing is what they know best. 

“You knew?” Richie asks, his eyes going comically wide, and Eddie shrugs.

“I mean- not the entire time. I figured it out this morning.”

“Well just know, I’m completely taken by surprise. I guess I’ll have to call your mom with the-”

Eddie kisses him again because apparently he can do that. It also happens to be an effective tool of shutting Richie up. Who needed  _ Beep-Beep _ when this was such a better option?

Eddie pulls away again, and asks- “So- lunch?”

Richie looks down at Eddie, hand still holding his face, thumb lightly tracing his cheek, and then he grins.

“I Uh- I was thinking something a little different.”

**~~~**

Something different is apparently ice cream on the top of the Empire State Building. Eddie has nothing to complain about as he takes small spoonfuls of rainbow-colored Superman ice cream and laughs as Richie tries out a bit about King Kong in a bar with Godzilla. It’s not funny, but Eddie’s in love.

It’s a workday, and apparently not a hot time for tourists because there are only four or five other people milling around. Eddie wouldn’t give a shit anyway if they saw him holding Richie’s hand.

“It’s July, it should not be this cold up here,” Richie says as he throws their styrofoam ice cream cups away, goosebumps obvious on his pale arms. 

“We’re fifty stories up asshole, what did you think the temperature would be with a thinner atmosphere?” 

“ _ Not freezing? _ ” Richie replies, raising his eyebrows above the top rim of his glasses.

“Maybe you should have thought of a jacket, dumbass.”

“Well maybe I would’ve remembered if I hadn’t been accosted with kissing,” Richie jokes, and Eddie elbows him softly in the side. Richie still makes a show of wheezing dramatically, and while he’s bent down Eddie kisses him again. It’s not something he can seem to stop doing.

“Accosted huh?” Eddie says lightly, pulling just far enough away to see the soft look in Richie’s eyes. And then something shifts, and he looks down and away.

“How did this even- I still can’t believe that-” and Richie’s laughing while he says it, but not really because it sounds just a little bit broken. Eddie grips his hand tight, tight enough to jolt Richie’s attention away from whatever thoughts he’d just fallen into.

“What, we fight off a giant clown demon and me finding you attractive is the tipping point?” 

“It’s just- after everything, I would have been fine if I’d gotten a call from you once every year. Just knowing you were alive and okay would have been enough. This just seems-”

“Too good to be true?” Eddie says quietly, and Richie nods swallowing thickly. 

“Yeah, way too good.”

“Ya know, I like it when you call me Eds,” it’s not something Eddie ever intended on admitting, but he knows Richie needs it, needs to see how much Eddie really does care. It looks like Richie might start crying, his eyes definitely look watery, but then he’s leaning down and tilting his head, to kiss Eddie. 

Eddie isn’t sure if all kisses are supposed to feel as great as what kissing Richie feels like, but he doesn’t really need to know. Kissing Richie is what being cared for actually feels like. Warm and safe, and oh so soft. It feels like hours and seconds and years pass them by, and it may be stupid and cheesy, but Eddie’s never gotten to be any of those things before, so  _ screw it _ .

It doesn’t take them long to be aware of the fact that they are still in public, and Richie pulls away with a grin so wide Eddie’s worried he’s going to pull something.

“What are we, Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan? Come on, beds were made for making out dude.” 

Eddie groans and lets his head fall onto Richie’s chest. “They absolutely were not, and please  _ do not _ call me dude when you’re grabbing my butt.”

“I’m sorry, I can’t hear you over how hot I find you in that blazer,” Richie says, and before he grabs for Eddie’s hand again he gives a parting squeeze to his butt.

“ _ Richie- _ ”

“ _ Alright- _ saving it for the bedroom bossy pants.”

**~~~**

It’s hours later that they find themselves tangled up under the covers of Eddie’s bed, and while they might not have done anything beyond making out, Eddie isn’t exactly complaining. There’s time for the big steps later, and Eddie’s still learning. Like the fact that kissing isn’t as effective of a way of shutting Richie up as thought previously.

“You know in L.A, you wouldn’t even have to go back to work, I could easily be like- your sugar daddy.”

Eddie stops, for a moment the hickey he was leaving on Richie’s neck completely forgotten. 

“Richie- I need you to promise me, please for the love of God, never,  _ ever _ say those words to me again.”

Richie shrugs. “All I’m saying is,  _ my  _ net worth of two mil, versus your very destitute ass,”

“You are not going to be my fucking-” God can he even say it with a straight face?  _ “Sugar daddy. _ I’ll get a job in L.A!”

“Oh! You could be a Limo driver. You could meet a shit ton of celebrities that way. I mean I’m a celebrity, but like I’m talking Emma Stone celebrity level,”

The mood has been effectively killed in Eddie’s opinion, and he rolls off of Richie with a sigh. “Why the fuck would I be a  _ Limo driver _ ?” 

“I don’t know, just a thought,” Richie says, and being the dumbass that Eddie has fallen in love with, tries to kiss him again. Eddie puts his hand up as a barrier because he has things to say now.

“Weird fucking thought since I’ve literally never been to L.A, and already the idea of the traffic is messing with my blood pressure.”

“Okay,  _ okay _ , you don’t have to be a limo driver,” Richie says, and moves Eddie’s hand away to kiss him for real this time, and because Eddie didn’t want to be talking in the first place, lets him. 

Except- now he’s thinking about things, and Richie should really know what those things are. 

“I help people- ya know. As a risk analyst,” he says, and Richie kind of just nods, leaning back in.

“Sure thing Eds.”

Eddie pulls away with a frown. “Would you-  _ stop _ . I actually  _ do  _ enjoy my job jackass.” 

“I didn’t mean- I know you do,” Richie sighs, pulling away until there's a good four inches between their faces. 

“Yeah well, it’s important to me,” Eddie says, and he knows he’s being dumb right now, but all Richie does is lean in quick to place a kiss on his cheek.

“So, you’ll get a new job in L.A as a risk... accountant.”

“ _ Analyst _ , Trashmouth,” Eddie sighs, and Richie smiles his teeth glinting in the low lighting of the bedside lamp.

“I’ve heard it both ways.

“No, you fucking haven’t,” Eddie says, but he’s laughing, and then Richie is pulling him back on top of him, and he forgets what he even had to upset about.

**~~~**

It’s hours later after they’re worn out enough to just have enough energy to turn Food Network on when Eddie thinks of something else to say.

“Ya know, Ian Malcolm is basically a risk analyst,” Eddie says after a while, his eyes straying from the T.V to Richie’s face. His eyes are closed, glasses skewed and he’s possibly the most beautiful thing Eddie’s ever seen. He’s so absolutely  _ fucked _ .

“No shit? Guess your jobs cool now Eds,” Richie mumbles onto the top of Eddie's head, voice soft with almost sleep. 

The T.V keeps playing some obnoxious infomercial, the hotel mattress continues to be subpar, and Eddie falls into the most comfortable sleep of his adult life on Richie’s chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hoo boy, so very sorry for the late update, but midterms kicked my ass and drained me physically and emotionally. But, this chapter is longer, good Lord is it longer. Hope you guys enjoy, and special thanks to my beta tumblr user flowerbritts. Next chapter should not take so long, because I am on break this week and I have time and energy to write. And then- possibly another fix-it in the works because I have not been given the ability to stop my brain from thinking up ideas at one in the morning. Anyway comment what you think, likes and dislikes, I appreciate everything :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay soooo- there is smut in this chapter, like I promised. It is however the first time I've written anything like it before so, uhh, it was a stretch for me. But, anyway, enjoy!

Living with Richie is somehow easier than Eddie could have ever imagined it. If you’d asked him at thirteen if he thought it was possible to cohabitate with the messiest person he knew, there was no way he’d have been able to say yes. And it’s not like Richie has entirely improved his habits, he still leaves piles of dishes in the sink, and he doesn’t think a clothes hamper is necessary 100% of the time, but he tries for Eddie. He has laundry days on Saturday, and he doesn’t allow the dishes to reach the counter before he starts washing up. 

All the other problems Eddie thought they were going to face, aren't really problems at all. For one, Richie’s jokes? Eddie has come to realize he finds them more endearing than annoying. Which, while at first a horrible, terrifying revelation, it was not entirely surprising. He’s stuck with Richie all this time, jokes and all.

There are times however, where he worries maybe he’ll be the reason they don’t see eye to eye. Those moments are far worse than when Richie doesn't use a coaster for his drinks. The worry that maybe his constant nagging, and worry will drive Richie away. That maybe they just- can’t live together, that Richie can’t handle all of Eddie, all the time. But, Eddie supposes, those are the things Richie finds endearing about him. Because whenever Eddie gets on his case about brushing his teeth for the recommended two minutes, he’ll smile softly, and do it. Or when Eddie is complaining about the insane amount of calories in Reese’s Puff cereal, he’ll roll his eyes and put them in the shopping cart anyways, because he knows they’re Eddie’s favorite.

And of course they argue. They argue all the time. But that’s what they do. And God had Eddie missed it. Because even when they're arguing, they know they're both on equal ground, that at the end neither of them really cares all that much, they just do it because that's how they are. Two diametrically opposed people who shouldn’t have fallen in love, but did anyway. 

They don’t end up in each others hair too much anyway because they’re both working. Or at least Richie’s working. Writing and writing _ a lot _, nothing of which he’ll show to Eddie. He meets with Sheila, and a few other writers she’d called into help, nearly twice a week. Eddie is- calling around. He’s going to interviews, and making connections, and searching on Indeed for hours on end and hating every second of it. It’s been years since he’s had to job search, and it’s not something he really ever missed. But he has good credentials, and he left his last job as amicably as he could, his boss had at least felt pity about the divorce. 

Life in L.A is just- so much better than he could have thought. It’s like all complications that Eddie had envisioned for them, had _ always _ envisioned for them don’t really matter. Eddie’s mom isn’t alive anymore, and with Myra out of his life, for the first time in a very long time, no one is telling him he has to act a certain way. No one telling him can’t do this, and he has to do that, because that’s what will keep him _ safe _ , that will keep him _ healthy _. 

So living with Richie is nice. It’s really just, nice.

**~~~**

It’s been three weeks since New York and Eddie is still living out of his suitcase. It’s not ideal, but communicating with Myra _ and _the moving company from the other side of the country isn’t exactly easy. It is however better than the alternative of staying in New York for three weeks longer, to have his stuff removed from the house in Roslyn. But finally, after weeks of rewashing the same five shirts, his stuff has been delivered.

Eddie is just getting into unpacking when Richie gets back from his afternoon appointment with his agent. 

“Holy shit,” Richie says looking at the boxes crowded about the entryway, living room, and the kitchen. It’s the stack near the kitchen that Eddie is currently rifling through because he’s fairly sure his sleep apnea machine is somewhere in them. 

“Holy _ shit _,” Richie repeats, when his previous exclamation goes ignored, and Eddie sighs softly before looking up from his search. 

“_ What?” _

“What the fuck is all this?” Richie asks, trying to open the front door wider, then panicking as two boxes tilt dangerously at the movement. 

“It’s my stuff, I told you the movers were due today,” Eddie says with a shrug, and gives up on his third box with a grunt of annoyance. None of them are fucking _ marked _. Richie sidles through the door, carefully shutting it behind him, then stares at the maze blocking his way to the other side of the living room. 

“Yeah, but why is there so much?” Richie asks, setting down his laptop case near the potted fern Eddie had bought a week ago. A wrinkle of concentration forms between his eyebrows as he takes a step over a stack of shakily stacked boxes. 

“A lot of it was in storage,” Eddie says in irritation, and Richie curses as he trips ungracefully, only just catching himself on the wall. 

“Eds- and please be truthful with me- Are you a Hoarder and do I need to call A&E TV to cover this?” Richie asks pausing halfway to his destination, face a carefully created mask of innocent concern. Eddie flips him off without looking up from his fifth box.

“I’m not a fucking- most of it’s clothes and like house appliances,” Eddie mutters angrily.

“I thought- are you saying you have more than _ five _polo shirts?”

“You know what- _ fuck you _ Mr. I have a graphic T for everyday of the week.”

“They’re ironic,” Richie shrugs, opening a box at random to peer through it and Eddie rolls his eyes as he pulls another box from a random stack.

“Did the meeting with Shiela go okay?”

“Huh- oh yeah, _ yes- _ she likes what I’ve written so far- though she said the bit about the alien clown living under my old hometown was a little too _ out there _,” Richie says, and Eddie looks up in panic.

“You _ didn’t- _”

“_ Kidding- _ no clown jokes in my new material- well, _ minimal _clown jokes,” Richie says, and ducks when Eddie throws a balled up sleep shirt at him. 

“I don’t know why you won’t just _ show _me what you’ve been working on.” 

“And as I’ve said before, it’s a _ surprise, _” Richie says, moving in to pinch his cheek. Eddie lets him, only to get close enough to flick Richie’s forehead. 

“I hate surprises,” Eddie says with a frown, and is incidentally _ happily _surprised by the kiss Richie lands on his cheek. Richie grins at him slyly, then ruins the moment by ruffling his hair like they’re both twelve year olds.

“I’m going to take a shower, but I’ll help you unpack when I’m out,” Richie calls back, heading towards their bedroom. 

**~~~**

They make a game of unpacking, because it’s the only way either of them can stay focused long enough to get anything done. 

“Hah- that’s six for me!” Richie crows, throwing another emptied cardboard box into the corner of the living room, as Eddie glares at him over his pile of newly folded clothes. 

“That doesn’t count, you’ve just thrown my stuff in a pile without putting it away!” Eddie mutters, but Richie ignores him as he continues to add to his accumulation of Eddie’s things. He found the sleep apnea machine, but it’s buried under several dish towels that Myra apparently didn’t want anymore, and an old DVD copy of GhostBusters.

“Nowhere in the rules did you say I needed to put things away,” Richie says astutely, drawing another box towards himself.

“It was implied- it was _ heavily _ implied that that was a rule. We’re unpacking, that’s how you unpack,” Eddie says unbelieving, but Richie just shakes his head as he starts unloading what appears to be an ancient looking _ Thundercats _ lunch box. 

“You’re just angry because you’ve put away three less boxes then I have,” Richie states matter of fact, placing the lunch box down only for something inside it to rattle slightly. Both of them look to it in surprise, and Richie immediately flips it open to reveal a stockpile of cassette tapes.

“What are those?” Eddie asks, for the moment, abandoning his anger to curiosity.

“Some old mix tapes of yours, they're super cute,” Richie says, picking up a few and then waving one in Eddie’s direction for him to take. He does so gingerly, running his fingers over faded red ink, his own handwriting staring back at him. It’s a little looser than his is now, less cramped, and stilted, but it’s still his. This one’s got the Beach Boys and some early Beatles songs, probably taken off of is grandmothers records in the attic. He’d forgotten all about making these. 

“Hey- this one has my name on it,” Richie says suddenly, and Eddie lifts his head to see Richie holding a very distinct looking cassette, bright red, with a peeling rainbow sticker label. A memory is floating somewhere nearby, Eddie can feel it, something about that tape. He really hopes it’s not something bad he’s forgotten. 

Instead of showing any of this inner turmoil, Eddie just asks “Huh?”

“This cassette, it’s got ‘Richie’s playlist’ written on it,” Richie says, leaning forward to shove it in Eddie’s face. As his eyes catch sight of his own messy teenage scrawl, the memory hits. 

_ It’s early spring, so early there’s still frost over Eddie’s bedroom window, making the world outside seem fuzzy and unreal. That’s how Eddie feels inside too though. _

_ Richie is sprawled on his bed, looking every inch of his last five growth spurts. He’s reading, something really smart Eddie’s sure, because Richie’s always been smart. Too smart for Eddie. _

_ He’s trying to study but he can’t, not when he’s got this horrible, achy feeling in his chest, not when he knows he’s got a life sentence in an envelope, and it’s just sitting on his desk. _

_ Richie must sense something’s wrong, because he’s snapping his book closed, and putting his socked feet on the ground and wandering dangerously close to where Eddie’s sitting. _

_ “Need any help there Spaghetti?” Richie asks, and he’s got his hands placed on either side of Eddie on the desk, and he’s leaning down to ask, his breath ghosting over Eddie’s neck. And it’s too much. Richie has always been too much. _

_ “I’m not a fucking idiot alright, I don’t need your help,” and it’s biting and horrible, and Eddie knows it is. Knows what he’s trying to make Richie feel, because he’s feeling it ten times worse. _

_ “Whoa, hey- no one’s throwing around insults here,” Richie says, backing away immediately, hands up in defense. And of course Richie was just trying to be helpful, because he’s Eddie’s friend, and that’s what friends are supposed to do. Friends aren’t supposed to keep secrets either. _

_ “I got a letter back from UCLA.” _

_ “And did you-” and Eddie can see it, the hesitant excitement on his face, the anticipation of their plans finally coming to fruition. Both of them in L.A, roommates and classmates, holding a freedom neither of them could ever have in Derry, Maine. _

_ “I wasn’t accepted,” Eddie stops him, and that glowing hope in Richie’s eyes dims until Eddie feels like crying. _

_ “Well then I- I won’t-” _

  
_   
“Richie, if you fucking say what I think your going to say stuff it. It’s a full ride, you can’t give that up,” Eddie snaps, and Richie’s mouth closes, then opens again, flounders for a moment before he just stops and sits back on the bed._

_ “Where are you- what will you-” Richie can’t seem to finish what he’s asking, like he can’t cope with their plan, the one they’ve held tight to their chests since sophomore year, not being a reality anymore. _

_ “I don’t- I’m still holding out for NYU, but I haven't heard anything yet.” _

_ “Fuck,” Richie says, which sums up perfectly all Eddie is feeling, but he doesn’t say anything more. And God he wants to. He should, since they’re running out of time. Richie won’t stay in Derry for the summer. Will be gone as soon as he can, and then Eddie will be stuck. Stuck with all these unspoken things, in a house he hates, in a town who hates him. _

_ There's a cassette tape in his desk. The top drawer, next to broken pencils, and inkless pens. A brand new, bright red cassette, with a rainbow label. It’s got his words, the ones that are stuck in his throat when Richie looks at him like he’s the only thing that matters. It’s got Richie’s name on it. It was made for him. With the idea of him. It’s got all of Eddie’s feelings for him. _

_ It’s just in the top desk of his drawer. _

_ “We’ll just- have to make the most of it then huh?” Richie asks, and Eddie looks to him, and he doesn’t open up that top drawer. _

  


“Earth to Eddie, hey, you there man?” and Eddie is back in the living room in L.A, with a forty year old Richie Tozier looking at him with humor and just a little bit of concern. 

“Give that to me,” Eddie says, and he lunges for the cassette tape still held out for him to read. 

“_ Whoa _ , whoa, hold up. _ I’m reading the songs _-” Richie laughs, holding the cassette too far up for Eddie to reach, and he knows he shouldn’t be panicking but the memory set him on edge. He’s still feeling emotions that have long since passed.

“_ Rich- _” 

“Okay, hang on, just one sec-” and Eddie finally pauses, lets himself sit back and breath because- they’ve figured themselves out, and Eddie isn’t that scared seventeen year old anymore. He grew up, and he faced his fears. A mixtape filled with secrets already told isn’t going to do any damage. 

Except that the face Richie is making is kind of setting Eddie on edge again.

“_ What? _” Eddie asks finally, as Richie carefully sets the cassette down, nestling it amongst the rest in the lunch box. He looks up slowly to meet Eddie’s eyes, his face clear of any discernible emotion. Eddie is about to start asking him again when Richie lets his head drop with a sigh. There’s a pause before he says-

“This is- the _ gayest _ mixtape I have ever seen,” and he barely gets it out with a straight face, lips cracking into a wide smile, and Eddie wants to simultaneously kiss him, and hit him with a throw pillow. 

He grabs for the throw pillow, but Richie beats him to it with the kiss. Just reaches across the gap and pulls Eddie in, both hands cupping his face. Eddie leans into it with relief, lets his hands fall loosely to Richie’s hips. 

A dumb thought strikes him as Richie’s hands move from his face to skate under his shirt, and Eddie pulls back grudgingly.

“Hey- no, we were _unpacking_,” Eddie says, trying not to laugh at the pout Richie is giving him. 

“How can you expect me to see this _ obviously _ tenderly made mixtape, with my _ name _on it, and then not have me make out with you?” Richie asks with an eye roll, and Eddie doesn’t really have a great argument for that.

**~~~**

The unpacking does eventually get done. A week later. And _ yes _ , Eddie has to admit, he does have a lot of stuff. Thankfully Richie has a walk in closet, because he’s a rich L.A comedian, and Eddie easily fits the rest of his polo shirts alongside Richie’s many, _ many _button up Hawaiian prints. At this point, Eddie has been living with Richie in L.A for a month. It has also been a month of them not having sex. 

A _ month _. 

Not for lack of trying however, it just so happens the universe itself is trying to cock-block them. While Eddie has no empirical evidence for this, he has a whole lot of belief that it is the most likely reason for the dismal amount he is getting. 

It isn’t like they hadn't had a little under the clothes action, but nothing more than the quickest of handjobs before something inevitably went wrong.

The first time it had happened, was the second or so week after Eddie had unofficially moved in. They’d been watching something on Netflix, and Richie had made a truly horrible joke, and for some unfathomable reason that had turned Eddie on to an extreme degree. Suffice it to say, the movie had been paused and Richie had started doing something very different and much less annoying with his tongue. That is until a fifty-five year old woman and her twenty year old nephew had barged into the house conversing angrily in Russian. 

Richie had apparently scheduled his weekly house cleaning for 8 _ p.m _, instead of 8 a.m, and it took a good twenty minutes of impassioned and very confused yelling for this fact to be discovered. Lada and her nephew Nick stayed another half an hour because Lada wanted tea and Richie was scared of her. 

Eddie and Richie had not gotten back to their previous activities.

The second most memorable time had been after a particularly good writers meeting of Richie's, and Eddie had just happened to finish up a run at the same time and apparently running shorts were like _ a thing _ for Richie. 

There is a possibility that Eddie had maybe gotten a little carried away with pushing Richie up against the wall to makeout, because that was supposed to be _ sexy _, but a badly hung award plaque had not cared about this at all. It had fallen at just the right angle to cut a gash above Richie’s left eyebrow. 

Eddie _ knew _that head wounds were supposed to bleed a lot. It bled a lot and Eddie still panicked. 

After the trip to the emergency room for stitches, they ended up passing out on the couch, all failed attempts at sexiness forgotten. 

There had been the time Bev had called on Facetime and Richie had ‘felt bad’ for ducking a call earlier that day and had picked up while _ Eddie was straddling him_. There was the time Richie had tried to unsuccessfully lift Eddie gracefully onto the kitchen counter, and had instead swept three glass cups to the floor, each of them shattering on impact. There was also the ever infamous laundry room incident which still neither of them were up to talking about. 

The other times were just mixtures of bad timing and unfortunate declines of libido, because they were forty year olds and they just- got _ tired _after a day of running around trying to accomplish stuff. The majority of the time after Richie got home, and Eddie finished up calls for the day, all they’d feel up to was making out on the couch or in bed and binge watching Schitts Creek on Netflix. 

It is like a curse. A celibacy curse that is trying to _ kill _Eddie.

It looks as if it’s going to be another one of those slow nights, Korean take out and bed by 9. Which isn’t horrible, except that it is, because Richie is wearing one Eddie’s sleep shirts so it’s obviously too small, paired with an old pair of jeans which are hanging way too low on his hips, and Eddie is wondering if it’s an appropriate enough situation to jump him when Richie is still trying to finish his kimchi. At least he’s thinking that until Richie reaches across the counter to grab another roll of kimbap and knocks over his glass of water. 

“Shit,” Richie mutters, and stands suddenly dripping, but Eddie immediately waves off his attempt to get something to clean it up, because cleaning up messes usually helps him deal with unwanted emotions. And he needs that right now.

“I’ll get it- do you have a mop somewhere?” Eddie asks with a sigh, throwing down his napkin and standing to head for the miscellaneous shit/supply closet Richie has put together.

“I- don’t own a mop,” Richie says, and Eddie barely notices the slight catch in his voice because _ really _, can nothing just be easy for him?

“Why the fuck- You are a adult man who doesn’t own a-” Eddie doesn’t get to finish because Richie has leaned across the counter and is kissing him. It’s unexpected, which is probably why Richie’s glasses are pressing an indent into Eddie’s cheek, but he can’t really complain. This is exactly what he’d wanted to do five seconds ago. It’s also definitely not one of Richie’s usual surprise kisses. Those are usually chaste enough to seem innocent and fun, this one is- this is definitely hotter than those kisses.

When Richie pulls away he’s looking like Eddie feels when a particularly strong memory of Derry hits him, but Richie has long since remembered what he can of their childhood. This is something else. 

Richie still has both his hands on either side of Eddie’s face, but he pulls away suddenly with “Sorry- I- sorry that was weird.”

“Right- yeah,” Eddie says nodding because he’s an idiot, but he doesn’t sit back down and neither does Richie. So they stand in silence, a charged silence until Richie’s eyes make a very un-surreptitious glance in the direction of the bedroom. 

“Do you just want to-”

  
  
“ _ Yes _,” Eddie says emphatically, and then he grabs Richie’s t-shirt and pulls him down into another kiss. 

He immediately has to pull back to mutter, “Just- be careful of the spill,” and moves them away from the water slick tile. 

“God, you are so sexy when you care about my well being,” Richie grins, voice low and somehow at just the right timber for it to send a shiver through Eddie. 

“Would you shut up and take your shirt off already?”

“Uh huh,” is all Richie gets out before Eddie leans in and they’re kissing again. It’s an absolute mess but it’s like neither of them can even think of stopping to get situated. It’s just stumbling backwards down the hall, clothes falling away, and hands gripping each other like their lives depend on it. 

Somehow they do manage to slip Richie out of his shirt by the time Richie’s back hits the bedroom door. Eddie’s not sure what he’s doing but whatever it is it feels _ right _ , moving his hands slowly down Richie’s chest until his fingers catch on the zipper of his jeans. They haven't even entered the bedroom yet and it’s like a static has filled Eddie’s brain, a constant, thrumming murmur of _ I want him, I want him, I want _. He yanks the zipper down and Richie gasps into his mouth at the release of pressure.  


Richie grabs at the door handle behind them and they fall into the room. Eddie lets go and watches as Richie takes a few more steps backward to fall onto the bed. While Richie shoves his pants off the rest of the way Eddie takes off his shirt, tossing it to the side. 

“I keep forgetting you are way more fit than I am,” Richie mutters, as Eddie goes to crawl on top of him. He lands a quick kiss on Richie’s lips before pulling away.

“You could always go with me on my runs,” Eddie whispers into Richie’s ear, and he can feel the responding laugh in Richie’s chest beneath him.

“I’m kind of more interested in a different type of couple activity,” Richie says and it looks like he’s going to say more not so subtle things, so Eddie reaches down and grabs his dick.

“You were saying?” Eddie asks coyly, and there’s not so much a response as there is an inarticulate mess of vowels.

Eddie leans down to kiss him again, keeping up with long, slow strokes to Richie’s cock. There’s another moan from Richie, and Eddie pulls back to look at him unraveling.

“Hey- Uh- _ pants off- _” Richie mutters, which is probably the best idea he’s had all night because Eddie had been semi-hard just watching Richie’s horrible table manners. Now he’s passed over into inhuman levels of arousal. His pants come off fairly quickly.

“I want you to-”

“What?” Eddie asks, hands letting go of Richie’s hips in an attempt to focus.

“I uh- want you to fuck me,” Richie gasps, and Eddie’s brain nearly shuts down there.

“_ Uhhuh _,” is all Eddie can get out, because Richie now has his hand around his dick and thinking doesn’t really run parallel with that. He leans down to card his hands through Richie’s hair and moans into a kiss, because he wants this, and he needs Richie to know.

A sudden, obvious thought strikes him as he straddles Richie, leaning over him, dizzy with arousal. 

“I can’t- do you have condoms?” Eddie asks as quickly as he can, gripping at Richie’s shoulders to steady himself. 

“Yeah- _ yep- _second drawer down- lube too,” Richie gasps out, arm flapping vaguely in the direction of his bedside table. He’s also wriggling slightly beneath Eddie’s thighs, which is making it extremely difficult for him to form actual coherent thought. 

Eddie makes an awkward attempt at opening the bedside drawer, but he manages it quickly enough, carefully opening a condom packet, and dispensing the lube into his palm. 

He carefully inserts one finger in, and Richie bucks slightly at the prodding. When he puts in the second finger Richie lets let’s out a moan that goes straight to Eddie’s already impossibly hard dick.

“Eddie- I don’t think I’m going to last if you don’t-” Richie breaks off with a gasp and Eddie can’t even say anything because just the idea of being inside Richie is nearly sending him over the edge. And then Eddie’s fingers must brush a sensitive spot because Richie is shaking under him, skin flushed and beautiful and Eddie knows he needs to do it now. 

When he finally slides it’s like fireworks are going off inside his brain, and a moan escapes his mouth unconsciously. Richie is apparently done talking because all he manages is an inarticulate whimper as Eddie eases in. 

They pick up a good rhythm, and Eddie was right because it’s only after a few thrusts that he can feel himself tipping over the edge. He grabs for Richie’s cock again, hand still slick with lube and pumps it smoothly. Richie’s eyes are fluttering and because Eddie can, he rocks his hips forward to lean down and kiss him. 

They come together. 

Eddie has to give himself a moment to regain the feeling of being human before he carefully removes himself, and Richie barely even gasps at the feeling. Eddie lets himself fall back onto the bed, his shoulder touching Richie’s, both of them sticky with sweat. 

They lay like that for beat, just breathing, soaking up each others presence. And it’s nice, it’s calming and-

“Hey- we _ did it _,” Richie says, turning to him with a slow and crooked grin.

“Could you _not_ be gross right now?” Eddie mutters closing his eyes tight with a groan.

“No I mean- well _ yes- _but like- the universe let us have sex.” 

Eddie turns to him, thinks for a moment, then sighs heavily. “Shit- yeah, we _ did it _.”

“Fuck yeah,” Richie laughs softly, and they both lay there quietly for moment, basking in the afterglow of it. 

But since it’s them, it is only the briefest of moments.

“I think you shoved my pillow off the bed- mind getting it for me?” Richie asks, lifting his head to look over the side of the bed, kind of pointlessly since his glasses are long gone. Eddie startles up, and starts shoving at Richie’s arm impatiently. 

“We are _ not _going to just go to sleep like this- move so we can shower.” Richie groans good naturedly, but still rolls out of bed in a timely enough fashion. 

“Aye Aye, Captain Kasprak.”

Even by Eddie’s standards they end up taking a long shower.

**~~~**

It has been one hundred and twenty days, 8 hours and approximately 25 seconds since Eddie Kasprak moved in with nationally acclaimed comedian Richie Tozier. They have done their laundry together fifteen times, and washed the dishes together forty eight times. They have had nearly four hundred and thirty five different arguments ranging from who’s turn it is to pick dinner, to the name of that one actor in that one film (it was Cary Elwes in Robin Hood: Men In Tights). But there were still a lot of firsts they were looking forward to.

Like, Richie’s first show in one hundred and fifty nine days. 

Eddie is excited, can’t help it, when he’s sitting backstage in an _actual_ greenroom, with a fruit bowl arrangement and everything. He’d been looking forward to this night for weeks, ever since Richie had been given the go ahead by Sheila that his routine was finally locked down. Eddie still hadn’t heard it, which was kind of amazing considering how much Richie usually enjoys talking about himself. Preparation however had just been hours of Richie locked away in his study (unfortunately soundproof) practicing over and over again.

And the night is finally here, which Eddie _would_ be more excited if Richie didn’t look like he was about to do some nerve related throwing up.

“Rich- maybe you should take a seat?” 

“I’m fine- totally cool,” Richie pauses his pacing, running a hand through his hair in a way that Eddie knows is definitely a nervous habit.

“Do you want me to get the others in here? I know you didn’t get a chance to say hi to Bev or Mike before they took their seats-”

“Eds it’s okay- it’s just pre-game jitters, happens to the best of us,” Richie gives him a strained smile and Eddie’s about to object again when a woman with a high ponytail and a headset opens the door to the greenroom.

“You’re on in five,” she says, and Richie gives her a jerky nod before she’s snapping the door shut behind her, gone as quickly as she’d come. Richie stares at the door for a beat, then lets out a very long breath.

“Well- now or never.”

They walk out together, sidestepping flustered and anxious looking crew members, and trying not to trip over cables in the darkened backstage. They make it in a timely enough fashion to Richie’s stage right position, that Sheila doesn’t give them an incredibly harsh glare. It’s like- medium heat. 

“One minute till lights,” someone whispers, and Eddie can feel more than see Richie’s shoulders rise with tension. Eddie immediately grabs his hand and squeezes, but Richie just kind of shakes it back, eyes trained on the black stage.

Eddie now can see the time being counted down, and he knows at any second Richie will have to walk out on stage, but there’s something he knows Richie needs right now. 

“I love you,” Eddie says, and Richie pauses his breathing exercises, training his full attention on Eddie. Then Richie’s hands are cupping his face, and they're kissing, and despite someone whispering harshly _ five seconds till lights up _, they hold on for four seconds more.

As he pulls back from the kiss, in the softest voice Eddie is sure he’s ever heard him use he says “I love you too.” And then the lights behind them are turning on, and Richie really does have to pull away, but he looks better, brighter and Eddie feels okay letting him walk out on stage.

“Give a big round of applause for Richard Trashmouth Tozier!” the announcer's voice echoes through the theater, and the crowd is deafening, as Richie raises his arm in greeting. 

He takes his place in front of the microphone, and Eddie doesn’t breath for fear of missing a bit of what’s about to come. 

“So- my boyfriend recently came out to me as gay, and let me just say- I was _ extremely _ surprised,” are the first words out of Richie’s mouth, and the crowd pauses for the shortest of seconds before they go wild. Eddie can feel himself tensing up, straining to hear if the roar of noise is good or bad. His breath catches when he hears the first whistle, smiles into his fist when he hears a few scattered _ whoo hoos, _ and laughs out loud when he catches a singular _ Holy Shit _. 

As the crowd slowly calms, the smallest of smiles slips onto Richie’s face, and then briefly his eyes cut to the right where Eddie is standing with, he’s sure, the _ goofiest _of grins, and their eyes lock. Eddie nods, and Richie’s smile grows.

And the show goes on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, look I did it, I finished an actual multi part fic. It feels nice. There may be one more edition to this series because Judy Bloom has a book titled "Otherwise Known As Sheila The Great", and hell if I'm not going to use that for a fic title when I have an oc named Sheila. But if I do write it, it'll be in a bit because I already have another fix-it Au in the works and it's a doozy (Stan's in this next one because I failed him in this and I apologize.) Anyway, thank you all so much for sticking with this!

**Author's Note:**

> Edward Kaspbrak is a stubborn bastard and I love him so much for it. He also deserved to bully IT to death, and I was robbed of that scene Andy! Anyway, Richie and Eddie will have their shit mostly figured out by next chapter so no worries there. (edit) I did not consider the fact my midterms are coming up and I have two essays and a 10 min presentation due this weekend, and I unfortunately won't have time until the 19th to finish the second chapter. Very sorry, but it is important I do not fail my college classes.  
This series has literally blown up faster than any of my previous works before so like, thank you all so much?? I just started this because I have an unhealthy emotional attachment to these two fictional middle age men but if you guys enjoy it ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯. Shout out again to my wonderful beta tumblr user flowerbritts, I'm literally the worst when it comes to writing words right, and the help is ever so appreciated.
> 
> Please comment any thoughts, they are always appreciated, and thank you so much for continuing to read!!


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